The Trials of a Teenage Speedster
by SilentEevee
Summary: Life as a teenager is tough. Between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets, and your life has just become a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry. Temporary Hiatus.
1. Chapter 1- The Last day of Normality

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life's just gotten a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry. Slow Burn.

 **Beta Reader: Currently, none**

 **Created: 26/08/16**

 **Modified: 30/08/16, 12/09/16, 17/09/16, 24/09/16, 28/09/16, 29/09/16, 09/10/16, 11/10/16, 20/10/16**

 **Total word count: 5139**

 **Published: 17/11/16**

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 1- The Last Day of Normality**

 **By SilentEevee**

 _An 11-year old Barry Allen wakes up in the middle of the night, his brow lined with sweat as his nightmare subsided. It had been a nasty one- he knew he shouldn't have stayed up late watching horror movies. A sonic boom had him awake, and he quickly found its source. It was pouring outside- lightning bolts were flying about randomly, streaking across the night sky, illuminating it as though it was late in the morning as opposed to the middle of the night. Storms tended to be severe in Missouri, so he doesn't think much of it as he attempts to drift off to sleep again. So long as the tornado siren doesn't start blaring in the dead of night, he doesn't have anything to worry about._

 **Crash!**

 _He can hear the windows shattering as another bolt streaks across the sky. He's quick to dismiss it, before he realises that the sound hadn't even reached him yet- it must have been much farther than he originally thought it was- too far to shatter his windows. Eyes widening slightly as his mother's scream reaches his ears, he jolts back to attention, rapidly getting out of bed in attempt to figure out what was going on._

 _He only stops his frantic rush for a moment, as the aquarium in his room and all its contents suddenly decide to screw with one of the fundamental forces and gently float out of its container. He stares, uncomprehending, before he hears his mother screaming for his father again, desperation evident in her voice as another glass object violently shatters._

 _Grabbing his nerf gun in some sad attempt to pretend that he could take on whatever foe awaited him, he runs down the stairs, his movements completely drowned out by the sound of the commotion from the kitchen. Armed and ready to fire Styrofoam darts at any possible danger, he enters the living area, only to stare in shock at the sight before him, dropping his toy gun in his dismay._

 _Red and yellow lightning streaked across the room in circular motions, moving in ways no light could physically as it twisted and turned in an oval formation. The coloured lightning clashed against its opposite, yellow racing after red, being thrown up against the wall, demolishing anything unfortunate enough to intercept their path. And in the centre of the uncontrolled chaos, his mother laid screaming for her husband, both parents unaware to their son's presence._

"MOM!" _he screamed in horror as he witnessed what seemed like a force of nature attempting to harm her._

 _Everything stopped in that moment. The bolts were still in motion, but his father's protective instincts took over as he grabbed his son by the shoulders, desperately telling him to "Run, Barry, run!"_

 _And then the yellow lightning bolt's attention is drawn towards him._

 _It only takes a second, but it's enough time for Barry to make out a humanoid figure, a lightning man in a yellow suit with blood red glowing eyes- a monster out of his darkest nightmares, a being that seemed to horrifyingly powerful to even exist._

 _It starts towards him, and he's sure he was about to die, before he finds himself whisked away by the red lightning, feeling surprisingly solid for the brief moment he's in contact with it. His world spins for a moment as lights and colours all blur together in a disorienting image, but it is soon over, and he finds himself in the middle of a deserted street._

 _He falls to his knees in nausea as he tries not to expel the contents of his stomach. Eventually, his world stops spinning and the lights and colours become more coherent. Once he feels safe enough to stand without tipping over, he ventures across the street in his silent panic as he tries to read the sign indicating the street name. He recognises it- he's twenty blocks away from his house, almost near his school in fact._

 _Panicking, he runs off towards his house, his duck slippers quacking all the way beneath his weight._

 _He soon arrives in his neighbourhood, panicking and out of breath. His attention is drawn by the cop cars in front of his house, and he allows himself to briefly hope for one moment that all is well, that whatever horrors had dawned upon his family had been dealt with, and he could pretend the whole event had simply been a figment of his imagination, unspoken of and forgotten about until it fades away in his memory for good. It is a hope which is quickly diminished as he sees his father being carried away by the men that should have been there to help. It's only then that he realises what's happening._

 _He runs to the crime scene, to the blue cover lying on the humanoid-shaped indent, unwilling to believe. Before any of the officials can stop him, he lifts it._

 _His mother's cold, unfeeling eyes bore into his own, staring into his very soul, and he can't help the tears that leaked from behind his own. The danger, though horrifying, had never seemed so real before, even when face to face with the lightning man. Not until he witnesses his mother's pale, lifeless face, littered with drops of crimson, does he truly believe his worst fears._

 _The uniformed individuals try to pull him away from his mother's body, trying to comfort him, but he can't hear a word they're saying- it all fades into an incoherent mumble as his brain tries to deal with the concept that had been dropped on him like a bombshell- he doesn't have a mother anymore._

 _They drag him to the station, still in his pyjamas and quacking duck slippers, and he just stares silently towards the back seat, seemingly staring through the very fabric of the universe. He couldn't move or speak even if he wanted to- his entire body feels numb, weighing him down with limbs of iron and a heart too heavy to carry. His mind shut off completely as he stares into the inky blackness of the night, replaying the events in his memory._

 _He doesn't know when his background had faded into that of the police precinct, and he doesn't care. He doesn't even realise that he'd been awake for hours on end since his mother's murder, and he only felt vaguely aware that they moved him into a private room to question him on the nights' events._

 _Briefly, he catches one of the men telling him that they were going to make sure his father got his due for what had happened, and the rest of reality seems to come crushing down on him. He denies everything, claiming firmly that it was the man in the lightning that had murdered his mother to any and all who would hear, but they just looked at him with sad eyes clouded in sympathy and disbelief, and it's clear that his story is too outlandish for them to believe- they who had not seen the monster tear apart his home, who had not seen physics take a back seat as the lightning man destroyed his entire life in a day, who had not seen him suddenly teleported almost the entire distance to his school. They try to explain that his story couldn't have happened, that it was impossible, but he wouldn't have it._

 _No matter how often they tell him he's crazy, that he's delusional, or that his mind is fabricating a story to help him accept what he saw because it couldn't handle seeing such an event as anything other than an act of God, he knows what he'd seen, and would insist time and time again on the credibility of his story, telling them to ask his father and compare his with his own. They do, and they are unable to deny the fact that they were all-but identical, but they still don't believe him._

 _They don't let them see his father, no matter how much he begs. He spends the night at the precinct, sulking and grieving, angry at the world for every person who'd looked him dead in the eye and called him a liar, or crazy, or even accused him of conspiring with his father._

 _He promises himself that no matter what happens he would bring to light what truly transpired in his house, and clear his father's name. But most of all, he would make sure that no one would ever suffer the same injustices as he._

* * *

"…Therefore, we can safely say that the velocity of an object moving at a constant speed is equal to the distance travelled divided by the time taken. Mr. Allen, if a plane moves the distance of 500km in 1 hour, what is its velocity?"

When people think of superheroes, they tend to think of courageous, nigh-omnipotent beings with an unbendable moral compass and the desire to bring justice to others, even if it means putting their own life on the line.

"Mr. Allen?"

If asked what they thought superheroes would be like before donning their costumes, before winding up with their spectacular abilities that allow them to do what they do best, most people believe that they must have acted the same way; selfless, brave, athletic, sometimes even dramatic, and probably extremely popular, for who would pass up the chance to befriend such a person?

"Zzzz…."

"Mr. Allen!"

"Zzzz…"

Other people, the small percentage of the population capable of using common sense, would know that most people with extraordinary abilities, such as bursting into flame or having super strength, would not have gained such abilities naturally, or at such an early age, so there might also have been a chance that those heroic individuals might just have been just another faceless individual in the sea of students that was high school. These people had the right idea in regards to Barry Allen and his friends, only they were worse off because Barry's entire friend group, save for Iris West, were at the very bottom of the social grapevine.

" _Mr. Allen!"_

"42! Wait… what?" mumbled Barry as he woke up with a jolt, his physics teacher Ms. Lee- a bitter fifty year old woman who seemed to find joy in torturing students- staring down at him and giving him the evil eye. "What was the question again?" he asked, blushing harshly with his eyes glued to the workbook he'd fallen asleep on while the rest of the class erupted into giggles, noticing the tiny pool of drool that had been forming.

"Well Mr. Allen, now that you've graced us with your presence," Ms. Lee began, sarcasm and irritation oozing out of her voice, "would you care to tell us the velocity of a plane which has travelled 500km in 1 hou-"

"139 metres per second?" he questioned, and from the frustrated noise his teacher made as she turned her attention back to her lesson he could only assume that he'd answered correctly.

"Dude," whispered Cisco Ramon, his best friend and study partner from the desk behind Barry. "It's bad enough that Ms. Lee hates your guts, do you _want_ the Ms. Dodds-wannabe **(1)** to have even _more_ reasons to justify it?"

"Not my fault," Barry whispered back, only to get a raised eyebrow from Cisco as a response. "Not this time at least…"

"What happened, then? Were you 'held against your will' and 'forced' to watch a chick flick with Iris and her friends again?

"No, Iris woke me up in the middle of the night because she found a giant spider in her room- I ended up searching for three hours only to find one of those plastic spiders we hid in her room and lost when we were twelve. And don't _say_ that- I hate those movies and you know it!"

"Is that why you went through two tissue boxes when we watched _The Notebook_ with Iris on her birthday?"

"I-"

" _Is there something you wish to share with the class, Mr. Ramon?"_ echoed Ms. Lee's shrill voice.

"Uhh, no ma'am, just telling Barry what he missed," he lied, successfully deflecting the attention back onto an incredulous looking Barry, who played along and confirmed Cisco's story.

Ms. Lee looked like she wanted to argue, but the duo were saved by the bell which rang moments after.

"Make sure to read pages 126 and 127 by next lesson, and work out questions 1 through 7 on page 129. And as a quick reminder to the students who have chemistry class with me, your investigations are due next Wednesday, and any late work will automatically reduce marks from your grade," she called out to the class as they were dismissed.

Barry couldn't help but throw a light-hearted punch at his best friend's shoulder as they shuffled out of the classroom as a form of payback.

"Ow! What was that for?" Cisco demanded, subconsciously rubbing his shoulder.

Barry snorted. "You can't seriously tell me that actually hurt you- a kitten could punch harder than that."

"If that kitten was on steroids, and was actually a lion cub, _then_ it would hit harder."

"You _need_ to get out more- we're never going to get Woodward off our backs if _that_ punch hurt."

"What exactly do you expect from me? I'm not a jock- I'm a science geek and _proud._ Besides, it's not like you'd do any better. I can see it now; Tony Woodward vs Barry Allen- a fight to the bloody finish. Would you like your funeral to be open-casket or closed?"

Barry laughed despite himself. "It wouldn't be _that_ bad- I think I'd manage to give him a black eye before my demise."

Cisco looked sceptic. "Uhh… no. At best, you'd give him a split lip."

"The sad thing is that's probably true. So did you see the trailer for that new trailer for the Spider-Man movie that's coming out next year?" Barry asked.

"Of course! You think _I'd miss_ anything that has to do with my all-time _favourite_ superhero, like ever?"

"I thought your favourite was Green Arrow in Star City?"

Cisco rolled his eyes. "I meant favourite _fictional_ superhero- and although I _love_ Green Arrow it's not like there's that much to choose from- I'm stuck with him or that bat guy that allegedly is staking a claim in Gotham. Honestly I think that's just an urban legend because who in their right _mind_ would dress up as a giant _bat_ of all things, and seriously the descriptions are _really_ inconsistent- one moment it's a giant bat hybrid and the next it's some dude in a black cape shooting grappling hooks all over the place."

"I don't know dude… remember back when you use to think GA was a myth?"

"That is _not_ the same thing. Besides there was actual physical proof that he was real- his arrows. And really, a green archer I can understand, like you said before he probably ended up training in some forest environment before returning back to Star to fight for justice or whatever, but really what could make anyone want to dress up as a _bat_ of all things?"

"Meh, I've heard he uses weapons too- apparently the GCPD calls them 'batarangs' because they're, get this, _bat_ shaped boomerangs."

"Seriously? Are-"

Before either of them could continue their debate, Barry was dragged backwards by the collar of his shirt and slammed against the lockers. He winced as his books and papers fell to the floor, flying all around the room, and he couldn't help but yelp as the handle of the locker dug into his shoulder blade. Tony seemed to take his involuntary noise as a sign of encouragement because he then proceeded to press Barry into the lockers in a fashion that his weight was all focused on the handle, rather than just leaning on it.

He bit back a screech of pain because he knew at this point that it would only serve to encourage Tony further, and he did not feel up to having his tall-ish stature used against him by being shoved into one of the terribly cramped lockers, as he'd been locked in numerous times before, occasionally being let out a few minutes later by Cisco or Caitlin, but more often than not having to wait until a teacher or janitor walked by to let both him _and_ Cisco _and_ Caitlin out.

"What's up, Allen?" Tony asked as he towered over Barry, being a few years older, with a smug and satisfied expression plastered on his face; an expression that Barry had learned long ago to associate with pain.

Tony and Barry had always shared a mutual dislike for each other, mainly because while Barry was incredibly gifted for his age, being branded as a nerd as early as third grade, Tony was severely lacking in the intelligence department and envied him, along with anyone else in school that regularly got As in most subjects. Of course, it was bearable at first; a few rumours here and there but nothing too severe. And then things got very complicated when Tony was held back enough times to wind up in Barry's class at age nine.

Ever since then the older boy targeted him and his friends, which at the time were only Caitlin and Cisco, because they were raising the grading curve for the entire class, something he could not afford to have. It started subtly, a few threats, a few shoves, but it escalated further when Caitlin decided enough was enough and decided to report him to a teacher. Unfortunately for them, Tony happened to be part of the football team and earned the school a lot of money, so her pleas fell on deaf ears, but it _did_ make Tony aware that someone was willing to stand up to him. He then took a more direct approach, physically hurting them and demanding that they complete certain homework assignments, and at that point Caitlin had been too discouraged from seeking help.

Of course, when the inevitable day of Barry's mother's murder came, Tony was less than sympathetic- he truly couldn't care less about what happened. The only reason Tony even bothered to remember that particular fact was because it opened up an entire new set of torments he could unleash on Barry. It had seemed that the worst day of his life had made Tony choose him as his prime victim, if only because he could hurt him in a way he couldn't with his other targets. Of course, considering Barry was still suffering from the loss of both his parents, each harsh reminder of what he had lost only served to increase his enmity towards his tormentor. It had gotten to the point where Barry had pinned a picture of Tony's face to a dartboard in his room when his new crush and foster sister had found out about Tony's bullying, and had taken every chance she could to stand up for Barry.

And as the years went by, Iris and Barry both started to mature, and Tony developed feelings for Iris, despite her obvious hatred of him. To Tony, her hatred seemed to be her way of playing 'hard to get', and instead of being chased off by her anger at her foster brother's mistreatment, he tormented him even more in attempt to score a date, despite being almost three years older than her when his crush first developed when Iris had turned 14.

Of course, when he'd gone just a step too far in his torment of Barry and gotten suspended for three days, he'd immediately blamed it all on Barry for making so much noise. Instead of backing down, his bullying increased threefold.

"Woodward," Barry stated with a glare. He knew he'd end up paying for it, but he just couldn't keep his opinion to himself when staring him down.

"Heard you got a 96% on the trigonometry test last week, but then I thought that that can't be right because I _specifically_ told you not to get higher than a _70%_ , didn't I?" He asked rhetorically as he squeezed Barry's shoulders enough to make him flinch- that was going to leave a bruise.

Despite this, Barry still didn't back down like most others would've. "Why would I do that, Tony? I'm not about to ruin my future just because you can't-"

His words were cut off by a sharp, stabbing pain blooming across his cheek, before he was thrown across the floor, falling with an audible _thump._

"It's because of _you_ that I fucking failed, you freak!" Tony growled as he stalked forwards and lifted Barry up and set him down roughly on his feet. Barry only had a moment to register what was going on before he was met with a fist colliding with his chest. " _That's_ for showing off," Tony grunted before releasing another punch aimed towards his face. _"That's_ for making me get a bad grade," he said, causing Barry to stumble back a few steps, only giving him a moment's break before Tony was up in his face again, "And _that's_ for being such a freak!"

The final one threw Barry back against the floor where he slammed his back against the lockers seeing as the impact didn't absorb all the momentum. He could hear Cisco's protests as he tried to pull Tony off, but they fell on deaf ears and did nothing the slow Tony down. Fortunately, Barry had something that humans call the 'fight or flight' instinct ingrained into his DNA, so with the adrenaline rushing inside him, causing his heart to beat wildly at an impressive rate and his pain to numb, Barry subconsciously decided that since his opponent was bigger, stronger and meaner than he was, then there was only one option left.

Barry bolted.

He could hear the shouts of " _Allen,_ get back here you _coward!"_ behind him before Tony charged towards his fleeing figure like a rampaging bull, but that only served as incentive to pick up the pace rather than slow down.

He darted past the idle students and the teachers rushing from one classroom to the next, past the cafeteria and the gymnasium with Tony hot on his trail, with seemingly no goal in mind but to get away from his pursuer, idly realising that if only he'd had this kind of incentive in gym class then he'd be _acing_ it, and only when he collided his female best friend, who was standing by the locker with his crush, did he slow down.

"Barry!" Caitlin yelled as she picked herself up from the floor. "What the heck is wrong with you?!"

He didn't get the chance to explain because at that moment, Tony had caught up with him.

"Think you're going to get away that easily, freak?" Tony asked as he approached.

Iris, well aware of the situation at hand, tried to jump to his rescue, unaware that by doing so she'd only anger Tony further. "Hey, leave him alone Tony," she said warningly.

Tony snorted. "Or what, he'll sick his dad on me? Is he gonna murder me too then?"

"SHUT UP!" Barry screeched, trying his hardest not to let the tears that were prickling his eyes loose.

"Aww, is the little orphan boy gonna cry now? Does he want his mommy to kiss it and make it better? Oh right, she can't because she's _dead_ \- your _father_ killed her."

Barry shook his head, and the three occupants of the room couldn't hear his mumbled "No he didn't," because Iris was too busy yelling at Tony for bullying her brother. Unnoticed by his crush and bully, he picked himself up and ran as far away as he could, without and destination or goal except to get away.

* * *

Barry was found two hours later sulking outside in the school yard, huddled off in a corner, by none other than Caitlin Snow.

"So… you missed third period," she said as she approached him. He looked up, and though she wasn't looked she couldn't help but notice the faint tear tracks that the sunlight glistened off of. She hated seeing him like that, knowing that such a kind and innocent person could be so mistreated in the world.

"Mr. Jason will understand," he mumbled.

"…Are you feeling okay?" she asked, only to wilt under his glare. "Sorry, stupid question."

"I hate him, Caitlin. I hate him and I can't even do anything about it because he's so much _bigger_ than me. I feel powerless and alone even though I _know_ you guys are there for me and have my back… I just… I don't know how to explain it but it _frustrates_ me."

Caitlin nodded, and she understood- _truly_ understood- what he was going through, because she'd felt it enough times herself, and it hurt her to see her best friend- the one she would jokingly refer to as her little ball of sunshine- so upset. "It gets better. It has to. There's no way that this isn't going to come to bite him back someday. Every time you fall victim to that arrogant pig, it's just going to make you stronger. One day, when you're Central City's leading forensic scientist -or whatever it is you're going to do when you're older- Tony's going to make a mistake. He's going to hurt someone, or do something, and he's going to go to jail, and you'll get to watch him getting dragged away, finally getting justice- not revenge; _justice-_ for everything he did to you, and you're going to stand there, knowing that _you_ were the one who gathered the evidence needed to convict him."

And Barry smiled despite himself. "Yeah, nice sentiment. Honestly though, he'll probably just end up working at his father's fireworks store or something. But it's still a nice fantasy."

"Did it make you feel better, though?" she asked hopefully.

"…Maybe a little bit. Definitely more helpful than the 'Don't let him get to you, it'll only encourage him' bit I get from the teachers."

"Hey, would it cheer you up if I told you that Iris actually decked Tony in the face, and someone took a video which is currently circling the social media? Talk about a blow to his ego."

Barry's mood had taken a complete one-eighty before she had even finished her first sentence.

* * *

"Hey Barry, can you help me out with number five?" asked Iris as she and Barry sat at the kitchen table and attacked their respective piles of homework. "I'm not really great at math. But seriously, when are we going to need to know things like trigonometry in real life?"

Barry shrugged as he looked over his foster sister's homework. "Dunno, navigation, maybe?"

Iris rolled her eyes, "Right, I'll be sure to remember this stuff when I'm lost in the middle of the Amazon."

"… You multiplied when you should have divided in step 3; the answer should be 65"

Realisation instantly dawned on Iris as Barry pointed out her mistake. "Thanks Bear, what would I do without you?"

"You wouldn't last a week," Barry teased, and before Iris could retort their conversation was interrupted by Iris's dad, Detective Joe West, arriving home after a day's work.

"Hey Joe," Barry chimed, not looking up from his work.

Iris, on the other hand, was more interested in jumping at the opportunity to take a break from her work, and did not hesitate to strike up a conversation.

"Hey Dad, how was work?"

Unfortunately, Detective Joe West, although brilliant at his work, had a bad habit of accidentally revealing confidential information about ongoing cases to his family, and more often than not it would be information that had not been released to the public yet. Luckily, both Iris and Barry knew better than to speak about such information to the public, with Iris having had that lesson drilled into her head by her mother from the moment she could speak and Barry having enough common sense to keep such matters secret.

"I swear this city just keeps getting weirder every day. Five known criminals were found dead in random alleyways in the Upper East Side, and Julio Mendez **(2)** , the lead CSI, can't make heads or tails of it because, get this, they were found _frozen,_ each one of them was encased in a block of _solid ice._ And it's only _August_. But that's not even the weirdest part- this one guy, James McGuire, showed signs of a struggle and Julio theorizes that the victims were hit by _blasts_ of ice, because apparently he managed to dodge the original blast and the _street lamp_ behind him had 'zero fiscal elasticity', which apparently means that the particles in the lamp, which normally vibrate constantly, where completely still- frozen even. It was so bad that when Julio accidentally bumped his arm against the lamp, it _shattered_ like he'd thrown a bowling ball at a glass. After the case is closed, Julio might just bring some scientists in from either STAR or Mercury Labs for further investigation. He looked ridiculously excited about the prospect- something about 'absolute zero', whatever that is."

Iris was blatantly gaping when Joe had finished recounting his story, and Barry, whose work had long been forgotten in favour of scoping out the unexplainable case, stared at him wide-eyed.

"And you haven't gotten any leads?" Barry asked curiously with an underlying hope of finding a new connection with his own unexplainable case.

"None at all, although Julio seems to think that some new vigilante like that Green Arrow guy in Star, one who's not afraid to take lives first and ask questions never, but it's all up in the air at this point."

"Are these guys connected in any way?" Iris asked, not wanting to be left out of the conversation.

"They're all suspected gang members, but they're from the smaller ones scattered around the city and none of them are connected beyond the fact that they have criminal records."

Barry raised an eyebrow. "Are they all from the same one or two gangs or…?"

"Not according to our investigations."

"Then it _might_ be some sort of gang war, or some criminal hoping to rise up by intimidating some of the lower-tiered gangs. Or it could be just some guy who just wants to cause chaos."

Joe shook his head. "We've got an undercover cop working in one of the gangs- some Puerto Rican one called Los Lobos- and he claims that the higher-ups are just as baffled as we are, and extremely panicked and paranoid. And a scared criminal is always a violent one."

"Any idea on the weapon?" Iris asked, intrigued.

"Not a clue, but we need to get some traction on this, and _fast_ , before it gets any worse."

* * *

 **A/N: To those who've been following me for a while,** _ **yes**_ **this** _ **is**_ **the promised reboot of my original (now deleted) story, and I've got to say that although I'm regretting spending so much time on something that ended up scrapped, I am** _ **definitely**_ **not disappointed by the way this one is looking so far, and I hope you aren't either.**

 **Now, some of you may have noticed the numbers next to certain sentences or words, and those are just indicators of something that will be explain here, in the author's note, like so:**

 **1: Ms. Dodds is a Percy Jackson and the Olympians character. Read the books if you haven't already- they're awesome.**

 **2: Julio Mendez… well he's the CSI since Barry doesn't work for CCPD at this point. (Also, am I the only one who is kinda curious about that? I mean as far as I know Barry's a forensic** _ **assistant**_ **so… where's his supervisor?) Fun fact, Julio Mendez actually worked alongside Barry as a CSI in the 1990s The Flash TV series. I thought it'd be fitting to let him be the CSI for that reason.**

 **Now, I know not much has happened in this chapter, it's basically an intro+ a bunch of setup+ SnowBarry fluff scene, but it's still only the first chapter. Oh, and I'm going to try my absolute** _ **hardest**_ **to keep a semi-regular update schedule this time around- by the time you see this I'll probably have finished the first ten chapters** _ **at least**_ **. And I'm trying to make them a bit longer and of a higher quality than the one's I use to write for my older version but obviously it'll take me a bit longer to update.**

 **Oh, and yeah, this will be SnowBarry. Maybe. Eventually.**

 **By the way, that gang I mentioned- Los Lobos? Totally a real thing… in the comics anyway.**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**

 **P.S. Do you guys want my old QOTC to come back, or just hold out on it altogether?**

 **Next Chapter: Lightning Rods**


	2. Chapter 2- Lightning Rods

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life's just gotten a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry. Slow Burn.

 **Beta Reader: Currently, none**

 **Created: 29/9/2016**

 **Modified: 30/9/2016, 2/10/2016, 6/10/2016, 9/10/2016, 11/10/16**

 **Total word count: 3369**

 **Published: 4/12/2016**

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 2- Lightning Rods**

 **By SilentEevee**

"Are you sure this is going to work?" asked Iris as she, along with Cisco and Caitlin, entered their school's chemistry lab, while their peers shuffled out of the school gates, running as fast as their legs could carry them in order not to be drenched by the rain that seemed to be coming down with a vengeance. "I mean, it's not that I doubt you guys, but it pretty much violates everything I learned in middle school about the subject, and I really don't want to listen to my dad ranting about how you've burnt down the Chemistry Lab. Again."

Cisco rolled his eyes. "You _accidentally_ set fire to a teacher's desk _one time_ and suddenly you're a pyromaniac. Besides, it wasn't even _that bad."_

Caitlin looked at him questioningly. "It was bigger than Joe's bonfire last year, and _that's_ saying something. The flames turned _blue._ "

" _Anyway_ ," Cisco stressed, eager to change the subject, "You shouldn't have anything to worry about. The surface we're working on is _completely_ non-flammable, the fire's going to be _completely_ surrounded by carbon dioxide, and Mr. Maxwell is going to be on standby just outside the lab is something suddenly goes boom. _Not that I'm saying it will!"_

Iris didn't look convinced. Neither did Caitlin, for that matter, despite the fact that she had been the one to suggest the experiment in the first place. But, recognising it was far too late to change their topic, seeing as they only had to test it before presentation, Iris relented. "Okay, fine then, let's get this show on the road. Where's Barry though? We can't start without him."

"He's just getting the apparatus. Shouldn't be too long till this magnesium's burning hotter than Mt. Doom." Cisco barely managed to finish the sentence before Barry's voice was heard.

"Move, please, before my hands fall off!" exclaimed Barry as he ran into the classroom, practically throwing the two Dry Ice blocks onto the nearest available surface. He shivered. "That stuff is the definition of _cold!"_

"Why didn't you wear gloves? That's _frozen carbon dioxide;_ it's almost negative 80 degrees! Are you _trying_ to freeze your fingers off?" Caitlin yelled, as she took in the sheer stupidity her best friend was displaying.

Barry mumbled something that was too low for Caitlin to hear, though she thought she'd heard something about leaving them at home. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she sighed. "Never mind, I forgot common sense is lost on you," she began, ignoring the indignant look Barry sent her way. "Let's just start before you two do something stupid and blow up the lab."

* * *

The Universe is a very fickle thing- ever expanding, full of mysteries that we have yet to discover, millions and millions of stars, planets, galaxies, just waiting to be explored. We've observed less than 1% of all the wonders it has to offer, and it's constantly changing- stars dying and new ones being formed, galaxies slamming into one another and tearing others apart. We don't even have the technology to _observe_ around 95% of the _discovered_ parts of the cosmos, and yet, we like to delude ourselves into believing we've got a firm grasp on the laws that govern it.

So of course, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to _anyone_ when a new variable came to play with our current understanding of physics; one which looked at our discoveries and _laughed_ as it proceeded to shit on every last one of them, taunting us and infuriating us with its existence.

The one which was so aptly named The Speedforce.

Now, there aren't many people who know _what_ the Speedforce is, per se. While many people know that it's where speedsters draw their power from, that's about all their knowledge is limited to. In reality, it is much more complex than that- _so much more._

In its most basic form, the Speedforce is pure, trans-dimensional energy that encompasses the multiverse, drawing power from every muscle twitch of its conduits, which are known as speedsters, and in turn turning that power into more of itself. It's constantly expanding, and as an end result, it's the reason that speedsters get faster over time.

Through the Speedforce, should a person have a sufficient- or even remotely _close-_ understanding of how physics works, then they'd be able to manipulate it to do whatever they wanted. Cross-universal travel, cross-dimensional travel, time travel, stealing the velocity of objects in motion, and even giving objects at rest a boost to get them going, all were fair game to the few chosen conduits, along with the quite obvious super-speed they would possess.

But of course, all good things must come at a price, as such is the way of life.

Though it may not seem obvious, whenever one uses the Speedforce's gifts to bypass barriers that one should be wary of crossing, such as the chronal barriers, they create ripple effects of distortion. Not only do these ripples travel across their world, but _every_ universe in the multiverse.

And Barry Allen, also known as the Flash of Earth 1, travelled across the 4th dimension, saved his mother, and changed his past.

And so the distortion spread across the multiverse. It was rarely noticeable- a bullet thrown off its path in Earth-7, a particularly strong gust of wind blowing on Earth-89- but other times, one would have to be blind not to notice it.

Such is the case on Earth-125, where a 16 year old Barry Allen was tinkering with a few blocks of frozen carbon dioxide with his friends, blissfully unaware of what was happening in the heavens above. For the Speedforce, though omnipresent, has an origin, even if it's tangled in more paradoxes than there are stars in the sky. Sometimes it was a particle accelerator that gave it the jumpstart it needed, other times it was pure luck and a generous amount of chemicals, but most often it was created due to already existing versions of it in its sister universes.

And as the wave of distortion passed through the multiverse, the faint trace of dormant energy was kick-started, and started pooling into the universe. Small traces of excess energy from the infinite universes started pooling into one giant force, clustering together as though with a mind of its own.

The Speedforce had awakened.

But it, in its limited state, wasn't enough for it. As its name suggested, the Speedforce was the ultimate authority of motion; the very embodiment of it, even. Its entire existence was dedicated to locomotion, but it couldn't move by itself.

It needed a conduit.

Had this version of the Speedforce had been awoken by inter-universal means, it would have been entirely random- luck of the draw, just aimless shots into the void until one individual was lucky enough to get struck by its condensed form. Of course, it would have had to seek out those most adaptable to it, for if a person were not malleable enough for the Speedforce, the resulting shock would kill them, something which the limited amount of Speedforce in the universe simply could not allow, considering that if it wasted any if it's energy, there wouldn't be enough of it left to create a conduit, and would eventually fade away into nonexistence.

But because the Speedforce was _triggered_ rather than created in the universe, the energy that created it wasn't _pure_ Speedforce, but tainted by those who've already used it, or would end up using it, in Earth-1. The individuals were limited, and so was its choice. Eventually, it was drawn to the one who's 'taint' had the highest concentration in the Speedforce, the man who had caused the Speedforce to leak into the universe in the first place.

And so, on the 17th of August 2016, Bartholomew Henry Allen of Earth-125 was struck by the Speedforce.

* * *

"Move! Outta' the way! _Move!"_ yelled one of the women pushing a gurney as they approached the treatment room.

Bursting through the doors, they quickly transitioned the heavily-burnt and slightly damp boy onto the medical bed.

"What the hell happened to him?" asked the doctor, horrified at the sight.

"He was struck by lightning- doused in some electrified chemicals too, some of them highly corrosive," stated one of the men pushing the gurney monotonously, though his face betrayed his tone as he stared at the still-breathing boy wide eyed.

"And he's still _alive?"_ the doctor asked in disbelief as she scrambled to obtain the necessary equipment.

"Start the CBC, we need to see if the blood's affected by the chemicals- some of them may have been absorbed in his skin," she barked as she prepared an ECG. "Amanda," she called to the only other female in the room, "Start a Chemistry Profile, tell Joey to start an ABG and Mark to start a CAT scan."

"His pulse's erratic, it's moving too fast, we need to stabilize these electrical impulses, _now people_ , I need to slow his nerves down- get me some ice water!" she demanded testily.

The nurse practitioners scrambled to get the necessary equipment to handle a case for which they were woefully unprepared.

"The CBC results are back, Doctor Chapel. I'm not going to _pretend_ to understand what's happening to him. His blood is like a cocktail," stated Amanda bluntly.

"Shit," she swore. "Prep the operating table- check his blood type, we may need a few transfusions."

"It's O-negative, Doc. He's a universal donor."

"Get the O-negative stores; it's the only type he'll accept."

Suddenly, a group of teenagers entered the room. The African-American looked practically in tears, while the Latino looked for all the world like someone had just told him his friend had just died, while the amber-haired girl had red, swollen eyes and wet cheeks, showing she'd recently been crying.

"Hey, you three can't be in here! We need the room!" Amanda stated as she ushered them out.

The boy and amber-haired girl didn't protest, realising the urgency of the situation, but Iris insisted on making a stand. "No, no wait please, that's my brother over there! I'm family!" she yelled in desperation, as another Nurse Practitioner told Doctor Chapel that his heartbeat was speeding up to dangerous levels. " _Barry!"_

* * *

Fairness was a lie.

That's something that Dr. Henry Allen knew to be fact, for there was no way so many horrible things could befall a single person less than a decade apart.

He'd been pulled apart from the rest of the prisoners early that morning. At first, he was confused- he certainly couldn't be getting a visit from his son Barry, for he was in school, most probably in his lunch period, and Detective West was never one to visit; he was one of the many, many people that believed that he was the one who murdered Nora five years prior, as if he'd ever commit such an atrocity on the love of his life.

He hadn't known what to expect, but he personally believed that being stabbed in the heart by an inmate would have been less painful that the news he'd received.

His son, the only light in his world, the one who'd lost _so much_ of his childhood to what many people believed to be either an illusion or a lie, the only one who believed in him despite everything that had happened, had been struck by lightning.

He could have laughed. In fact, he did laugh, when he'd originally believed that the guards were playing a practical joke on him. But they weren't- a point they quickly made known. His son had really been struck by lightning.

Now, his working career had been rather short, but he'd dealt with a few cases similar to his son's, and he'd had a majority of them survive the process. None of those patients ever turned out the same- a small percentage of them were fine, but the majority always suffered some sort of side effect- uncontrollable motor skills, violent reactions to anger, seemingly constant anger; some of those patients even suffered extreme cases of memory loss (and he couldn't bear the heartbreak of Barry waking up with the memory of a seven year old, asking for his mother), complete personality changes (having his son's light snuffed out, far, far too soon) and even ending up in a vegetable-like state for the rest of their lives.

He didn't know which would be worse.

* * *

Eobard Thawne, currently disguised as the secretly-deceased Harrison Wells, banged his fist against a wall of the time vault, creating a dent as some of his small reservoir of the speedforce leaked into it.

The news had been going on nonstop about the freak accident that occurred in Central City High, something he normally wouldn't care less about, had a single word not caught his undivided attention.

Lightning. A sixteen year old boy had been struck by lightning.

Now, normally he wouldn't mind this. Sure, that would be highly coincidental, and even if it _had_ been the Flash's younger self, he wouldn't have gotten his speed.

Except he was also doused in chemicals, and the nature of the lightning bolt that struck him was quite disconcerting.

Oh, he'd known what was going to happen when the storm first rolled in and he felt the tingling sensation of the speedforce- indeed a rare occurrence, one that only happens when a universal or chronal barrier is ruptured. He'd thought nothing of it; sure it was stronger than others he'd felt before, but it wouldn't do much to affect their universe. But he hadn't realised it was so _concentrated_. Or that it would have the undeniable effects of _jumpstarting_ the speedforce in this timeline.

Had it struck him, drawn to the already-present traces of speedforce in his system and embedding in him the power of a speedster once more, he wouldn't have minded it- he would have just disappeared, back to his own time, content that although with a slight setback, he'd succeeded in preventing the birth of the Flash. He would have won a game his opponent hadn't even known they were playing.

But it didn't come to him- it went to that _child_ , a teenager of all things, one who would undoubtedly get himself killed in some ridiculous attempt to impress his foster sister, without knowing the severity of what he'd become. He'd think it some party trick, and then get the damned CADMUS group or A.R.G.U.S. interested, and he'd be locked up, imprisoned and experimented on, and he'd never get the opportunity to go home.

Years of planning, plotting, setup, manipulations, suffering; all down the drain. His plan to appear as a mentor figure to his nemesis was practically garbage, now that he wouldn't have reason to drag him to S.T.A.R. Labs, and the amount of _money_ he'd spent on building his particle accelerator, something he couldn't back out of now, all gone to waste! He should have just killed the boy in his sleep, consequences be damned, because the results would have been the same, with the only difference being that he'd get to see the life fade out of his eyes, before the time when death seemed to be practically meaningless to the chosen few!

"No matter…" he mumbled to himself, on the edge of hysteria. "It doesn't matter, Thawne, we can still win this… we can still make him bend to our rules. Heh. Plan… a new plan- that won't be too hard, I used to make them all the time… heh… the old one was garbage anyway- how big of an ignoramus could I have possibly been, to think that after such deception he would be willing to take me home… the Flash I'd known would never have let me get away with that… that idiot is practically the king of self-sacrifice"

His eyes seemed to gleam as a blood red lightning bolt seemed to dance behind his irises, giving off an intimidating look as it slowly fed off of the speedforce, replacing a miniscule amount of energy that he'd lost.

"…A new plan… that's a good idea. GIDEON!" he yelled, and the program responded by creating a near-transparent, giant blue face near the far wall.

"Mr. Thawne? What do you require?" it inquired.

"Show me the future," he said, and he smirked as he realised that, even with his setback, things remained unchanged. Well, except for the by-line of the newspaper, but that really wasn't important anyway.

"…I can work with this… but it'll take some time…"

* * *

Time passed, days turning into weeks, and then into months, but Barry still hadn't recovered- he'd been comatose for a while now, and although the doctors told the Wests that he was healing extraordinarily quickly, there was no guarantee that he would ever wake up. In fact, considering that he was hit head on by the bolt which lit up his body like a Christmas tree, it was unlikely that he'd ever wake up at all.

They'd suggested cutting him off, so as to not keep spending so much money to keep him sustained. They'd declined, not wanting to be the ones to pull the plug- it was torture to see Barry in that condition, but they'd never live with themselves if they were the ones to kill him if he'd even had the slightest chance of waking up. While it may have not been much of a life, it was still his own.

Of course, when the doctors subtly inferred their suggestion to the patient's family, they had not taken into account the will of the speedforce, for how could they if they knew of no such thing? The speedforce _wanted_ it's conduit to move, for it had invested too much into him to be replenished only in the most _miniscule_ of amounts via his involuntary muscle twitches. Though it would be enough to sustain it, simple sustenance would not do, as the speedforce constantly expanded, and eventually Barry's miniscule movements would simply not be enough, and it would have to resort to leeching the natural energy its conduit produced from his IV, draining its conduit of it all, thus killing him.

It could not let that happen. The speedforce was a protector by nature; created by a speedster, for speedsters, and for their loved ones. It couldn't allow itself to kill its only conduit, and there simply wasn't enough of it to create a second to help its first, though the options were there. The only other speedster loathed its conduit, so it was forced to intervene itself.

But its actions were limited. It couldn't affect Barry's brain chemistry and wake him up- his body, which was still adapting to its new power, would crumble should it pour too much of its power into him. His scarred brain tissue from which the lightning had first entered would cause him to remain in a vegetable-like state should the speedforce not let his body run its course, and his heart would give out from the stress of the additional boost of power, should it try to help it at the current moment.

Despite all these setbacks, it was still determined to do its part.

It started small, and only when the first of Barry's cells had adapted to the Speedforce that had struck it. Taking charge, it poured its energy into the one cell capable of conducting it. The cell, empowered, multiplied, completely dominating the un-mutated cells in a miniature version of survival of the fittest in action. Entire patches of skin were adapted to suit the Speedforce's needs, despite the doctors noticing no visible difference. And soon, different types of cells began to follow suit, completely dominating Barry's body.

Barry's nerves, which were fried by the lightning and seemingly damaged beyond repair, started to slowly repair themselves. Entire clusters of scar tissue were destroyed- something which the speedforce quickly took care of as it allowed other brain cells to fill the gap, ones which were altered to be able to speed up Barry's perception on command, and connected to the speedforce itself. His heart struggled to keep up, desperately pumping blood to reach each individual part of the body, before following the example of each other organ, and giving in to the power of the speedforce.

The deed was done, and as the Speedforce, though nearly depleted, allowed itself to slowly replenish, Barry opened his eyes.

* * *

 **A/N: So, that's episode 2! Kinda short compared to the last chapter- still not entirely certain what an acceptable length template would be… I'm trying to lean towards the 4000-ish one, which is around 10 pages, as opposed to the 6-page 2000-ish one. I still haven't decided though, because it is rather hard for me to unlearn my current pace in writing and relearn it, and it will take longer to create chapters twice as long, obviously, so hearing your opinions on it would be great!**

 **Anyway, brief statement because I know some people will be wondering why I skipped on the particle accelerator- I simply couldn't see a reason for Eobard to create it so quickly. So, I'm mostly relying on the comic-versions of the bad guy's origin stories. Yay? I mean, this is already meant to fuse comics, TV shows and maybe some movies together, so why not?**

 **Oh, and I would have gotten this published faster, but fun fact, I had originally started this a month prior, and was about to finish it when my computer decided to force update. I ended up not saving, and the "auto-save every ten minutes" thing is a lie because I had been working on that story for two days and all it saved was the title. Then I just got discouraged and… yeah.**

 **Can anyone find that little Easter egg I left in the chapter? Hint: It has to do with a comic** _ **character**_ **\- a superhero. And no, said superhero won't be appearing in the story, they won't even be getting their superpowers.**

 **So… speedforce explanation. No, that wasn't difficult at all (Notice the** _ **sarcasm**_ **). Yeah, I borrowed** _ **a lot**_ **of stuff from many,** _ **many**_ **sources, hoping to be able to piece together an understanding on how this stuff worked. Hopefully this satisfies you! I'd love to hear your opinions on it!**

 **Oh, and Psycho!Thawne! :D I mean, he's crazy in every interpretation of the character; this is just a bit more obvious because he's having a breakdown.**

 **To those wondering, this story will update every two weeks on Sundays. This means that the next chapter will come out on the 18th, and then on the 1st of January. BUT I will be willing to upload an EARLY EXTRA chapter on Christmas as a gift if this chapter manages to reach 11 reviews! And to help you out, I'm even bringing back the old Question Of The Chapter!**

 **Today's question: In the comics, Barry has a grandson who is also a superhero. He goes by the aliases of Impulse, Kid Flash II, and for a short while even Flash IV. What is his name?**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**

 **Next Chapter: Observations**


	3. Chapter 3- Observations

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life's just gotten a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry. Slow Burn.

 **Beta Reader: Currently, none**

 **Created: 09/10/16**

 **Modified: 11/10/16, 22/12/16**

 **Total word count: 4184**

 **Published: 18/12/16**

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 3- Observations**

 **By SilentEevee**

Barry felt content, blissfully unaware of all that had happened in the past few months. He drifted, not quite awake but not unconscious either, as though he'd just woken up from a good night's rest. Still, he felt like crawling back under the covers, as he'd unknowingly conditioned himself to do with his late-night study sessions before big tests or exams. The urge to bury himself in the comfortable pillows beneath him was almost overwhelming, had something not seemed off about the whole scenario.

For starters, the bed wasn't soft at all. Rather hard, actually, and uncomfortable, as was his pillow. It was annoying, for he simply wanted to go back to sleep, but it combined with the alarm clock that was undoubtedly about to go off wouldn't…

Wait…

Where's the alarm clock?

For that matter, where was he? His bed was never _this_ uncomfortable, and it was normally only uncomfortable while he was still trying to find that perfect sleeping position, and not after waking up.

And there was something else- a dull, annoying noise- a constant beeping, much softer than his alarm clock, and much less loud.

His curiosity getting the best of him, he opened his eyes…

…Only to close them again as they were met with an aggravatingly bright white light that burned his eyes. Or, rather, a bright white light in a plain white room, a sharp contrast to the comfortable inky black darkness. One which he could not find again, now that he'd woken up. Surprisingly, he didn't feel tired, like he normally did when he woke up early in the morning for school.

There was that beeping again- constant, annoying, and now erratic too; much louder now that he'd submitted to consciousness. And something else, dull and lying in wait in the back of his mind, just waiting for attention to be drawn to it.

Unable to get back to sleep, he turned his head towards the unknown object of his annoyance- a movement which caused a soft _crick_ , as though signalling that he'd either slept in the wrong position, or hadn't moved it in some time. Opting to ignore it until he'd regathered his bearings; he slowly, carefully, opened his eyes in a direction he was sure the light wouldn't be able to reach directly until his eyes had properly adjusted.

White clouded his vision once more, only for a second, before the colours seemed to settle and fade back into the background as they'd always been, no longer assaulting his eyes. He could also detect some blues, in the chairs and the floor as the splashes of blue checkered the white tiles, and some jade in the… curtains?

Where was he?

As his pulse quickened, the beeping he'd momentarily forgotten about intensified, drawing itself to his attention. Startled, he whipped his head around at an incredible speed, feeling a weird sensation of… something… and stared at it.

A heart monitor.

He was in a hospital.

He would have questioned how he'd gotten there, but the memories trickled into his mind like a roaring waterfall. He remembered with picture-perfect clarity; the experiment, the storm, the window he'd gone to close, and the bright flash of light that followed. The pain, the searing pain and numbness in his arms and legs as he'd gone lightheaded, and even more pain as his eyes closed when he fell to the ground, liquids trickling on top of him and burning his flesh, causing his blood to boil beneath his skin.

The weird sensation trickled into him again, and the heart monitor continued to beat faster and faster- it looked like it was about the short circuit, and the hospital personnel rushed in.

Had Barry been more aware of his surroundings, he would have noticed that they seemed to move slower than a turtle trying to wade through pudding. But he was too busy freaking out at what happened.

He was briefly aware that the doctor and the nurse were trying to calm him down- to slow his breathing. Was he hyperventilating? He wasn't breathing through his mouth, and his breath felt fine. He decided to do what they instructed, and the weird sensation trickled out of him again.

Briefly aware that the heart monitor was slowing down, he wondered what that weird feeling was, and tried to focus on it.

It didn't work- he couldn't consciously draw it forward, or he just didn't know how, but he did suddenly become increasingly aware of another, more unpleasant feeling.

Hunger.

It felt like his stomach was trying to eat itself, only it couldn't because it had shut down from the lack of use. His body was starving, and he wasn't being melodramatic when he said that.

The personnel were looking at him expectantly, as though they'd asked him a question and were waiting for an answer- a question he had missed. He tried to speak, but his throat was too dry and constricted in itself, the only sound coming out of his mouth was a dry, hacking noise that sounded like a dying goat.

The nurse quickly fled the room, returning a moment later with a plastic disposable cup- one filled to the brim with water. Barry's throat seemed to get drier the longer he looked at it, and he longed to gulp it all down, but the doctor wouldn't let him.

"Just a sip, don't drink too much, however much you may feel like it- your stomach's shut down, and it's going to need some time before it can properly digest food and water again," she'd said, and Barry decided to not be difficult considering it could impact his recovery, and obliged, albeit with a scowl on his face.

"Don't overexert yourself, Mr. Allen," said the doctor, as she pulled the cup away from a reluctant Barry.

Turning to look at his doctor, he asked hoarsely, "When can I eat?"

Surprise was apparent on her face, but it quickly was replaced with concern. "Mr. Allen, you've been in a coma for two months. Your digestive system has completely shut down, but we've been delivering the nutrients you'd need through an IV directly into you," she explained, and from her nametag Barry gathered that her name was 'Dr. Chapel'.

 _'Then why do I feel so hungry?'_ he wanted to ask, but the thought was quickly replaced with the sudden realization of her words.

He'd been in a coma. For two months.

Holy crap on a cracker.

"We're going to have to jumpstart your system before even entertaining the idea of letting you swallow solid food," Dr. Chapel said, and as though on cue, the nurse who Barry hadn't even noticed had left re-entered the room and opened a strange packet, not unlike a sugar packet. The substance that came out of it, however, was definitely not sugar- strange, light-brownish flakes of… something… were deposited into the water, and Barry watched with open curiosity as the nurse stirred the cup, causing them to dissolve and turn the water into a peach coloured tone.

"It's a nutritious formula designed to help your digestive system. Take a sip- just one, mind you, and slowly," she'd said. "You'll be able to drink again in about an hour."

Screw that.

It tasted horrible, but Barry was so starved that he didn't particularly care. Deciding to ignore her wise words of wisdom, he chugged the entire glass down before anyone could stop him.

The medical personal weren't incompetent, at least. They certainly didn't waste any time delivering Barry the required barf bag as a wave of nausea hit him and his stomach lurched mere moments after.

Perhaps next time he'd actually listen to them.

* * *

After the unfortunate incident with the first cup, his caretakers had taken to restricting his access to it save for when he absolutely needed to drink according to his schedule, despite however much he'd insisted that he wasn't planning on pulling another stunt. He was required to sip the formula ever hour- _just_ a sip- and then they'd check back on him the next day to see the results.

He wanted to see his loved ones. He knew they'd be going through a lot and that they wouldn't really believe he was alive until they saw him themselves. Besides that, he wanted to see them for more selfish reasons, mainly because he needed to know they were alright after two months, that they hadn't been too terribly affected by his absence, and also partially because he wanted Cisco to sneak in some science magazines.

What? He was bored, and he wasn't incredibly into seeing what the latest fashions the Kardashians were wearing, which was practically the only content the hospital magazines contained.

There wasn't even a TV or Laptop in his room, mostly because he was in the coma ward and there really wasn't any use for either of them there. He had nothing to do beyond staring at the ceiling and watching the second hands on the clock tick by, but it seemed like time itself was toying with him because every now and then, this incredibly weird sensation would encompass his head and suddenly the clock would take entire _minutes_ to change position. Obviously, he was irritated at the fact, but he very well couldn't say anything because he knew how people would look at him when making such outlandish claims, something he was all too familiar with in the weeks after his mother's murder.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the similarities. Lightning seemed to have some sort of a beef with his family. First, what seemed to have been sentient lightning rampages around their living room. Later that same lightning forms some sort of suited person with a yellow mask and blood red eyes and murders his mother. Then, only five years later, he gets struck by a random lightning bolt.

What is wrong with his life?

Deciding not to dwell on such depressing matters, Barry let his mind drift to his previous thoughts before they were derailed.

The hospital had told him that while they had called his friends and family, they weren't allowed to see him just yet because he was still under observation, and would continue to be until he underwent physical rehabilitation, and they'd figured out what exactly caused Barry's incredible hunger.

See, apparently patients weren't supposed to feel _hungry_ after waking up from a coma- his body had all but shut down in the first month, and they were constantly pumping the necessary nutrients into him.

He wanted to tell them that they'd obviously done something wrong, because he could literally feel himself _starving_ , but he couldn't even satisfy his hunger because his digestive system was still down. He did tell them this, in simpler, more polite words, but that only caused Dr. Chapel's eyes to widen in confusion before settling on a troubled expression.

"We've checked your IV bags thrice, Mr. Allen. There's nothing wrong with them- your body was receiving the required amount for someone of your size and weight," she'd told him. "If you're as hungry as you say you are, then perhaps one of those chemicals has affected your metabolism, or indeed, your ability to feel full."

He'd grimaced at the thought of feeling this hungry forever, and he'd felt genuine fear when she'd confirmed with her peers that it was a possibility.

And so he laid, gently drifting in and out of consciousness, whether it be because his insatiable hunger wouldn't let him be or because one of his caretakers woke him up to remind him to drink his scheduled sip.

The next morning couldn't have come any sooner, and Barry eagerly awaited his caretaker as she entered the room in inspect his condition. She'd asked him how he felt, though Barry frowned when he noticed how slow she was talking- it was at least twice as slow as last night.

Not wanting to draw attention to him just yet, seeing as he wanted to do nothing more than eat at that point, he'd replied that he was really hungry, but other than that he felt perfectly fine. As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly, and he cringed.

"Looks like your stomach's woken up, Mr. Allen," she commented with a small smile. "Honestly, I was expecting it to take at least another day- I guess it's just one surprise after another with you, isn't it?"

"Does that mean I can eat now?" He hadn't meant it to sound so desperate, or his voice to carry the message across with a tone of irritation, but any cringe-worthy moments quickly dissipated when Dr. Chapel announced that he could.

And so, five minutes later an entire buffet of food was brought in- soups, fruit juice, milk- anything mostly composed of water and mostly healthy was there, and Barry's stomach quickly made its desires known.

Dr. Chapels told him to eat until he felt full. In the end, he ended up even disgusting himself with how much he'd eaten, for he'd gone through four entire bowls of soup and three glasses of juice before he'd deemed himself satisfied.

"How on earth do you manage to eat all that?" the doctor asked, wide-eyed.

Barry shrugged, simply glad that the constant hunger had been supressed, for the moment.

She shook her head. "We're definitely going to need to keep you a while longer for observation, Mr. Allen, perhaps more than you may feel comfortable with. Keep in mind that this can end up being a serious medical problem later on, and it's best if we try and figure out the root of it before anything problematic develops. We may be looking at an entirely new disease," she stressed.

Barry sighed. "Can I at least have something to do while I'm here? I'm really bored, and I'm not exactly fond of the latest fashion trends, or what celebrity scandal made the news this week."

Dr. Chapel hesitated for a moment. "I'll have to check with my superiors, but I think now that you're awake we can move you to the recovery ward- there's a TV there, you'll have roommates, we can supply you with various books from our reading collection and you can ask your loved ones to deliver you anything that you may feel personal attachment to, so long as it isn't detrimental to your health. If it is, as we fear, indeed a virus, then we'll have to place you under quarantine, but you should still have access to most of your comforts,"

He sighed. "I thought you'd say something like that. I'll take what I can get, I guess."

* * *

"You're sure you're gonna be okay?" asked Joe for the umpteenth time as he and Iris, Caitlin and Cisco stood by Barry's bedside, with Iris barely concealing her puffy red eyes and wavering smile.

"Don't worry about it, Joe!" Barry said, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible. "I'm awake, aren't I? I can survive a direct hit with a bolt of lightning, so I like my odds against a little metabolism problem. Besides, even if this stuff is permanent, which I doubt, what's a little quick metabolism mean? Mostly that I can't get fat. Like, ever," he joked.

"No need to rub it in our faces," commented Caitlin light-heartedly.

"Oh no, there is definitely a requirement for doing so. I have 2 months of annoying-ness to catch up on. I think I'll start by stuffing my face with brownies when we get back home. Don't worry Iris, I'll leave you half a brownie for every pan I make; maybe a quarter. Probably less, but the thought is still there."

"Don't you dare!" Iris chuckled, and couldn't help giving Barry a relieved smile. "It's great to have you back, Barry."

"Yeah, dude, glad to see you haven't changed. I don't know what I'd do if I lost my geek-out buddy!" Cisco exclaimed eagerly. "Oh, and here's the laptop, and the past three issues you've missed of New Scientist Magazine. I've kept all your homework, ready and waiting for you to tear into it, while Caitlin took care of the class notes, as well as creating a recommended study guide. Maybe this way you won't be so bored all the time!"

Looking at the giant pile of work waiting for him, Barry grimaced, but agreed with Cisco.

"And dad and I made some cookies for you yesterday," started Iris, to which Barry promptly snapped to attention.

"Wait, _what?_ Where?" he asked, practically begging to eat something solid and sugary.

"They're waiting at home, Dr. Chapel said you couldn't eat solid foods just yet when she called us," Joe explained, before frowning. "Shouldn't you already know this?"

Barry chuckled. "Heh. Foiled again, I see."

The group talked for a while, just making small talk and catching Barry up on what he'd missed, before Nurse Amanda came in to tell them that visiting hours were over, mainly because Barry's roommate needed some quiet to recover seeing as he couldn't sleep with all the noise. The mood successfully ruined, the group filed out with promises to return the next day, and Barry took it all in with a smile.

Missing his loved ones already, he decided to do something productive with his time, and tackled the homework.

* * *

"Try not to strain yourself, Mr. Allen, there's no need to rush" said his physical therapist as Barry gripped onto the parallel bars to his side for dear life, trying to stop himself from falling face-first onto the mat as he tried to hold his weight on his shaking legs, who clearly weren't used to the strain.

"Sorry," he mumbled, though with a touch of confusion. He wasn't going that fast- actually he was tentatively biding his time, trying to take as long as possible before he was being urged forward. Mentally shrugging, he continued on with his attempt to walk the set distance.

"You're doing really well, you know," his physical therapist, whom Barry briefly recalled was named Dr. Williams, praised. "In all honesty, we hadn't expected you to be up to walking exercises until next month. It's actually quite rare for long-term coma patients to wake up at all, let alone achieve the remarkable progress you have."

Barry tripped on his own two feet, not for the first time that day, or even that hour.

After making sure he was alright and helping him stand back up, Dr. Williams chuckled. "Perhaps I shouldn't have said anything. We can take a break from walking and strengthen your arm muscles to get a better grip on the bars in the future, if you'd like."

"No, I think I've almost got the hang of this…" Barry decided, although Dr. Williams looked sceptical

"Recovery doesn't happen overnight, Mr. Allen. Remember that."

"I will, sir," he replied earnestly. "I'd still like to keep going, though."

"Very well then," Dr. Williams caved, before adjusting Barry's grip on the bars.

Barry's muscles contracted, as though they had a will of their own, and they decided to stop co-operating. He felt his legs about to buckle from his sheer weight, and his hands couldn't hold on to the very bars they grasped- his own thin, sheen line of sweat was working against him as his hands slipped. He fell forwards before he could stop himself.

And then, the unexpected happened. The weird sensation he'd felt since he first woke was drawn to the front of his mind. His muscles suddenly felt five tonnes lighter, and he could feel energy being poured into him, like gasoline to a car. His muscles, suddenly regaining months' worth of strength, sent a truly odd sensation coursing along his body. He saw the world slow down, like he'd seen happen often in the movies. He thought nothing of the weird feeling, only focusing on the ground that was about to rush up and meet him at a second's notice. He shut his eyes and braced himself…

…Only the feeling never came.

Opening his eyes, he suddenly realised that the world around him hadn't only slowed down, it had almost completely stopped. He could _feel_ himself falling, and the edges of his vision could see the world around his drifting up with a snail's pace.

This was nothing like the movies.

And then, with a quick, involuntary reaction, he placed one foot in front of the other and, miraculously, it held his weight.

Not wanting to push his boundaries, he quickly brought his hands up to the railings again, gripping them as tight as he could, which was actually much tighter than before.

And before he could even question what happened, it stopped. The tingling feeling that seemed to flow from his head to just beneath his skin dissipated, much too early for him to truly memorize the feeling, but from little he'd gathered it definitely wasn't adrenaline.

The flow of time restored itself, and Dr. Williams looked at him expectantly, as though oblivious to his misstep and to the fact that time itself had decided to take a break. He raised an eyebrow, gesturing for Barry to continue with a nod of his head, and Barry set his mind back on his daunting task, silently freaking out inside.

It was only then that he'd realised that he was perfectly comfortable walking, and that it took no effort at all. If anything, his body felt like it was berating him for not going faster.

* * *

A week had passed since the first session of Barry's physical therapy, and despite the fact that his body didn't _seem_ to require it, he kept going, mostly to conceal his secret until he had a stable hypothesis for what was going on, but also because he feared what might happen should he relapse, or worse, have his secret discovered.

See, the thing was he didn't want anyone to know about what was happening. He was already weird enough as it was, what with his highly sped up metabolism and his reaction to his mother's murder. He didn't want to go from quirky to downright abnormal, especially with something he believed was a one-off. Having to ask someone for help was also risky, because if he could trigger such a response on command, or even when he was hyped up on adrenaline, then he'd be a potential investment to many, _many_ less-than-ethical businesses looking to make a quick buck on super humans.

However, that didn't stop him from dropping subtle hints with both of his doctors, but they all just went right over their heads. Either they clearly never dealt with his kind of situation before and didn't know how to act, which was worrisome, or that they didn't even realise that something was wrong.

He honestly didn't know what was worse.

And so, he stayed in his room, squeezing the little ball Dr. Williams had given him after Barry went back to his room- to strengthen the muscles in his arms, he'd claimed, and Barry had to admit that his arms were considerably weaker than his legs, quite possibly because while they had experienced the healing effects of the surge of extra-dimensional energy, it hadn't been as concentrated as it was in his legs.

"Well, Mr. Allen," began Dr. Chapel as she stood beside Barry's bed, a clipboard in her hands and a small smile gracing her face. "I'm glad to announce that you have made a near-complete recovery, save for the issue with your metabolism. I must say, you've showed remarkable regenerative capabilities, both in the fact that you've managed to overcome your comatose condition, and the way you've attacked physical therapy with a vengeance. You barely even show _signs_ of the fact that you've been inactive for an extended period of time, which is truly remarkable, especially for your age."

"So… does that mean I can leave?" he asked, hopeful.

"We'd wanted to keep you under further observation, try and figure out what's wrong with your metabolism and the sort, but all the tests have come out inconclusive. From what we can gather, beyond being approximately three times that of what it was before, it's perfectly fine- healthy, even. So, unless you've got any other problems you haven't told us about, you're free to leave as soon as we clear out the paper work."

She'd presented him the perfect opportunity- it was like the universe was begging him to explain his problem to someone- _anyone_ \- who could help him. He should have told her, and prevent any further problems down the line.

But he didn't. Instead, he stayed quiet like a coward, eager to get out of the building and relieve his cabin fever.

"Remember, if you feel nauseated, or _anything_ that could indicate your metabolism having a negative effect on your body, report to the hospital _immediately_."

Barry nodded, and he internally he cringed at the lie.

* * *

 **A/N: So, Barry's out of the hospital! Yay! And he's recognising that something may be 'wrong' with him- so that's a plus.**

 **Again, this is one of those chapters where I freely admit to having borrowed a lot of my inspiration. This should be the last one, though. There's just... not many other ways you could tackle something like someone waking up from a coma.**

 **Also, QOTC! I am happy to say that last week's winner has been named!**

 **Congratulations, reddevil47!**

 **This week's question:**

 **In the new52 comic series, what is Barry's winning word in the spelling bee of issue #0?**

 **Also, wow, you guys are really great fans! I asked for 11 reviews last chapter, and I got freaking 15! Nice, guys! You totally deserve that extra chapter coming out on Christmas, and yes, it's now official!**

 **But the battle is not over yet! Keep reviewing, as reviews help fight off the accursed writer's block! Together, we can keep the demon at bay, or even defeat the vile creature once and for all!**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**

 **Next Chapter: Velocity**


	4. Chapter 4- Velocity

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life's just gotten a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry.

 **Beta Reader: Currently, none**

 **Created: 20/10/16**

 **Modified: 22/10/16, 23/10/16, 24/10/16, 25/10/16, 26/10/16, 27/10/16, 29/10/16, 01/11/16, 05/12/16, 06/12/16, 18/12/16, 22/12/16**

 **Total word count: 4036**

 **Published: 25/12/16**

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 4- Velocity**

 **By SilentEevee**

* * *

The weeks following Barry's two month coma were extremely uneventful. His loved ones were extremely protective of him, as though afraid he might slip into another coma the moment they turned their backs, and it was starting to get a bit suffocating. Sure, he understood why they would react that way, and he knew that that feeling would fade away over time, but it still made him slightly uncomfortable.

Despite all this, Barry was uneasy. The events at the hospital lay at the back of his mind, nagging, constantly reminding him that there was something wrong he should draw attention to. He could pretend it didn't happened, he could tell himself nothing was wrong for so long that he almost believed himself, and he did so, but nothing worked. Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't _forget_ how time itself had frozen. He couldn't forget about his miraculous recovery, or his ever-present metabolism. He couldn't just pretend not to notice when, on seemingly random conversations and events, the people around him would start speaking so slowly that he'd first thought they were practicing whale.

Still, he put the entire idea behind him, adamant to pretend everything was normal, even if every scientific bone in his body was just _begging_ him to find out what was going on, if only to find out what he could do to make it stop.

It was only during his lunch period on the 22nd of October, when he finally decided to change his tune.

He'd been walking to his table with a tray filled with an ungodly amount of food. The teenagers around him were acting like, well, teenagers. Paper planes were being flung around, heated debates about mythical fantasy games and science fiction were ever present amongst the tables of social outcasts, and the jocks were throwing footballs around the lunchroom, either towards each other or in attempt to knock a nerd's face into their own tray of food- a perfectly normal day. No one paid any attention to him, not even his friends who were waiting at the table, Cisco and Caitlin giggling about whatever science joke Cisco cracked while Iris looked on in bemused confusion.

" _Hey, lightning bug!"_

Whirling his head around at near-inhuman speeds, somehow managing to keep his full tray intact, Barry was the first to witness Tony approach him, a steely glint of determination in his eyes that gave off a promise of revenge and pain.

All eyes were drawn to the inevitable confrontation, and before any of Barry's friends could rush to his side, Tony's goon-like friends were already keeping them in their seats, holding them down if necessary. It was painfully obvious that Tony had planned this confrontation out, possibly days in advance, and Barry couldn't help but wonder how much pain Tony put himself through in effort to access his barely-used brain cells.

"Yes, Tony?" he asked in a resigned sigh. The sooner he'd gotten this over with, the sooner he could satisfy his seemingly-endless hunger.

"Lots o' food you got there, Allen. Eating for two? Or five, from the looks of things," he remarked, smirking as though he'd just delivered the meanest of insults. Barry twitched and glanced down at the mountain on his tray in self-consciousness, but apart from that was completely unaffected.

"You know Tony, you and I may have had our differences, but I have to say it physically pains me to see you attempt to fit your entire vocabulary into one sentence- and even that's butchered," he rebutted in irritation. Let it never be said that Barry wasn't snarky when he needed to be.

The crowd, who'd been silent up until that point, bust into mumbled chatter- some had been silently chuckling at the insults Barry threw out, while others had taken out their phones or quietly asked their friends whether Barry had some sort of death wish.

It only served to infuriate Tony further, which was quite an accomplishment, considering he was almost purple in the face with his nostrils flaring like a bull's. In fact, from the way he looked like he was about to charge, he'd looked more bull than human at that point.

Barry, knowing what kind of beat down was awaiting him, placed his tray on the nearby table haphazardly on the edge as he started to back away slowly.

No dice, Tony wasn't about to let that slide.

Much like the animal Barry mentally compared him to, he charged forwards towards him, drawing his fist back and preparing to strike Barry so hard he'd fall into another coma- one he wouldn't wake up from. Barry tried to escape the rampaging teen, but Tony's friends quickly blocked the exits, making sure the confrontation was public and inescapable.

 _Aw crap._ Barry mentally swore. _Too far- I'm going to die without getting the bastard who killed my mother. Shit._

It was only when the flying fist was mere inches away from his face did it happen again. Adrenaline surged through his body, he felt a slight tug in his chest as electricity started to gather in his bloodstream, crackling through each individual nerve in his body and encompassing the body, traveling from head to toe and back again in breath-taking speeds. Electricity intermingled with the electrical signals sent by the brain, setting Barry's mind into overdrive. His perspective shifted, his body accessed the speedforce, and his instincts were once again set onto fight or flight mode.

He chose fight.

Instinctively, Barry ducked out of the way just as Tony's arm would have made contact with his face, twisting slightly to the left. He saw Tony's fist sail past him with the speed of a tortoise, but that was put to an end before he could truly register what had happened.

Tony's arm hit the wall, and with a slight and painful-sounding crack, Tony let out a hiss of pain as he drew back, unveiling the area where he'd created a fist-sized dent in the cafeteria column.

Barry's eyes widened as he realized what he'd done, that what had happened was again more than just the adrenaline. He looked around to see if anyone noticed anything particularly unusual, but besides the gobsmacked expressions on Tony's friend's faces, and the ever-wide eyes of the casual onlookers, nothing stuck out.

With his senses on high alert- ever heightened by the Speedforce- he heard Tony's retaliation coming before he'd even stood up. Deciding to get some long-overdue revenge for the years of abuse, he decided that if the fight was going in his favour, then he could risk embarrassing the behemoth of a boy a bit more. He stood patiently, waited for the right moment- and with his intense concentration he could practically _feel_ the kinetic energy Tony was generating- and mere seconds before an un-fractured fist would have connected with the back of his skull, he slid to the side, turning around as he did so, and at the moment when Tony's fist lost the last of its momentum, he caught it in his hand.

Shocked, humiliated and enraged, Tony demonstrated the range of his intelligence by attempting another strike, this one within viewing distance of Barry. He ducked, and with a grace and elegance that he'd never known in himself, he twisted and struck a kick to the back of Tony's knees, sending the giant bear of a man tumbling forwards, having to rely on his fractured hand to keep himself from planting his face in the ground.

He wasn't done yet though. Pushing himself off the ground, Tony gave a cry of _"Allen!"_ and charged forwards again. He barrelled towards Barry, dashing closer and closer until Barry sidestepped effortlessly, still experiencing the world through the eyes of a speedster.

Tony's momentum wouldn't let him make the sharp turns and stops that speedsters were famous for, however, and he kept going and going-

-straight into a table, where Barry's lunch had been loosely placed. The table shook with the force, tilted, and the food from Barry's over stacked tray came sliding down, straight onto Tony's face.

As the cafeteria erupted into gossip and laughter, Tony shook himself from the soiled food. Recognizing he couldn't win this fight without losing what little was left of his street cred, he sent a sharp look that practically screamed " _This isn't over!"_ to his adversary, and fled the room, his posse following close behind, scrambling like a pack of lost sheep.

As soon as the initial shock died down, Barry bolted out of the classroom, somehow managing to do so at human speeds despite his nerves and pounding heart. He didn't even order a new tray of lunch, something that his stomach was protesting quite loudly as he ran through the corridors. He needed some space- it was clear that denying his new abilities was going to lead him into trouble, and he wanted to be as far away from prying eyes as possible until he figured out what was wrong with him, lest someone discover his talent and forever label him as a freak- in the literal sense, at least. He didn't stop at the school gates- he completely ignored the incredulous stares of those who hadn't been in the cafeteria but were present to see the goody-two-shoes Barry Allen ditching school. He didn't once look back, and could only hope none of the faculty had seen his hasty escape. He needed some fresh air.

* * *

The first chance he'd gotten, he'd ducked into the nearest empty alleyway, briefly noting that despite the distance he'd just ran, he wasn't out of breath- not even a little winded, and this was _after_ the 'fight' with Tony.

Although the cautious part of his mind practically begged him not to tempt fate, especially here when no one would have any idea what'd happened to him, any and all resistance soon was halted in its tracks- there was just something so alluring about moving, all of a sudden, as though some higher power was begging him to go through with it.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes. Concentrating, he tried to will forward the electrical impulse that had surged through his body only minutes prior. He tried to will it all into one particular part of his body, one which he could easily observe for himself.

Opening his eyes, a wave of disappointment passed through. He felt nothing- no electrical surge, no sudden slowed-down perspective of the world. If he had tried this before experiencing the super speed he knew he had, he would have chalked it up to a case of misinformation. But he obviously couldn't this time- it was glaringly obvious what was going on, from the hospital to the fight with Tony, it was clear that something inside him was reacting and allowing him to access previously-unattainable superspeed.

Was it adrenaline? He couldn't know for sure- it was certainly present during his fight, but how much adrenaline could really be released when _falling_ in a hospital- especially when he'd been falling quite often that day? It probably had something to do with it, but it wasn't the entirety. Perhaps it was a subconscious trigger- it would shove the strange energy into him at threatening moments. But was there a way for him to actually call it forward without actually putting himself in danger?

With a sigh, he decided that he'd figure it out after school, lest he be late for Physics and receive another public lecture about his tardiness from his horrid teacher. Stepping back into the street, he started walking down the pavement, when a stray car started zooming towards him, slightly out of control.

The almost-familiar sparking sensation appeared in his brain again. Slowly, surely, the car's relative velocity to his own seemed to slow down, and it changed from a whistling blur of death to something he could actually make out. He could see the car's body more clearly now, rather than just a blur of colour zooming past him, and he could make out details he previously couldn't- the licence plate, the broken headlight and slight dent in the side of the trunk, the old man inside the car fumbling to obtain some sense of control over a piece of technology he clearly had no idea how to operate, and what looked like a driving instructor holding onto his seatbelt for dear life in the passenger seat. With wide eyes, Barry barely avoided becoming road kill as the deep blue car whistled in front of his nose. Then the feeling dissipated again.

Slightly unnerved from his near-death experience, he tried not to think of the outcome had he not had his gift and tried to focus more on his speed dilemma to occupy his mind.

He tried to feel for the familiar feeling again, but it seemed he couldn't consciously bring it forwards. It did seem that the mysterious energy was more concentrated that in was previously, however, like it was somehow… bigger. It was as though at some point, he'd be able to call it forward on command, but it was just barely too small and too far for him to reach- barely an imaginary inch away.

With this new revelation, an idea sparked in his brain. Turning his head towards the street, he stared at the cars passing, and with great focus he tried observing the individual details on them. At first nothing happened, just an incredible sense of foolishness dawning on him. But he persisted, and for great result, for soon enough he was able to observe a car- red, Mercedes- in his own slowed-down perception of time.

He could barely contain the grin on his face as the feeling of triumph washed over him. He tried to focus on the fast-moving objects once more, and was incredibly elated to find out that with each sparking sensation, it was becoming easier and easier to observe them. Either the saying 'practice makes perfect' was more real than he'd ever imagined it to be, or the unknown energy buried deep inside him was expanding. Deciding to test out his theory, he tried to access it to race to his school.

He'd arrived there in less time than it would take you to blink your eyes.

* * *

"I've been meaning to ask you, what the heck was all that back there, man?" Cisco asked as Barry sat down at their cafeteria table. "Did you suddenly get a spider-sense when you got struck by lightning? Am I going to walk into your room one day and find you with your ass webbed to the ceiling?"

Barry slightly choked on his food, partly because of the ridiculousness of that mental image and partly because Cisco's joke hit a little too close to home. He tried to recover with a weak laugh, though thankfully no one noticed anything too strange about his behaviour. "Uh, no, no, not really. I guess… I guess I just wasn't as bad as I thought I was in a fight, and you know the adrenaline and… yeah…" he trailed off. "But yeah, I'm almost certain it was… a onetime thing…"

"You're not doing drugs or something, are you?" Cisco asked suspiciously. "Because that's like, really bad, and you just came out of a coma-"

"I'm not doing drugs! Seriously- I have a cop for a foster dad, remember? I've got the rules drilled into my head pretty well. It's adrenaline- nothing special. I'm not suddenly going to be able to grow wings or whatever just because I had a NDE."

"Well that's too bad now, isn't it? Your life's dream would have come true if you'd actually gotten superpowers, however implausible it may be," Caitlin commented. "Don't you have like six dozen comic books in your room _alone_ , Cisco?"

"Hey, I'm not embarrassed about it- superheroes are awesome, even if they don't all have superpowers."

"Hey, speaking of which," Barry began, eager to change the subject off of him. "Have I missed any vital detail regarding our favourite vigilante from out of town? I'm so out of touch that Metropolis could have blown up and I wouldn't know about it."

"Nothing major- I heard Green Arrow's stopped some crazy archer copy-cat from destroying half of the city, and stopped another gang war, but that's about it. Seriously though, I wouldn't go live in that city if you paid me a billion dollars- that place's almost as corrupt as Gotham."

"Oh yeah, have they heard anything new about the Bat guy?"

"Yeah, turns out you were right about him, dude, someone's actually crazy enough to dress up as a giant bat."

Caitlin rolled her eyes. "They're both crazy, in my opinion. I mean, we've got a Robin Hood fanatic on one side of the country, and a ninja with a bat-fetish on the other. I respect what they're trying to do- from what I've heard they're more competent then their local police forces, so long as they don't start dropping bodies, but seriously, why _bats,_ of all things? I'm sorry, but if I ever have the choice, I definitely won't be spending my free nights moonlighting as a vigilante and kicking random criminals in the nuts."

"You just jinxed it," Barry said with a teasing grin. "You've doomed yourself to a lifetime of heroism and a martyr death. I'll be sure to cry in your funeral."

* * *

The weekend couldn't arrive fast enough for one Barry Allen. It wasn't that he disliked school- he actually enjoyed it a fair bit, apart from the inevitable confrontations with his local tormentor. But the thing was, with the weekend came more privacy, and more privacy meant that he could test out the extent of his new abilities without having to be constantly looking over his shoulder, just in case anyone was observant enough to notice him.

Still though, he wasn't careless enough to use his powers in public places- just pausing for a split second could allow a street camera to capture a snapshot of his face, run it through facial recognition, and soon the government would be breathing down his neck. No, he needed someplace deserted, private, uninhabited, though preferably with a wide open space.

Luckily for him, he was a speedster. He could easily run anywhere in the state in less than an hour, less if he were to run from Central City to the Missouri borders. And with the technological assistance in the modern era, it only took a quick google maps search for him to find the perfect testing ground- an old abandoned airstrip previously owned by Ferris Air before closing down, which was now falling into disrepair. The company showed no interest in returning to the state, and no other potential investors seemed interested, so Barry decided that it would be safe enough for him to test his limits.

And so Barry, dressed in a yellow skin-tight air-resistant runner's suit, complete with a bicycle helmet and paddings, set out towards the edge of the track, where he quickly connected an electronic stopwatch to a tripwire he'd have to pull once he'd reached the edge of the track. It wasn't the most accurate way to measure his speed- the time taken to stop the clock completely would throw it off balance slightly, and reaction time was something he'd have to deal with- but it was accurate enough, for the time being. Quickly, he ran to the opposite edge of the airstrip, and with a click of a button on his phone, he sent a wireless signal towards the clock, starting the count down.

The response was instantaneous. Electricity surged through his body, crackling through every nerve under his body and dancing under his skin. It shined through his irises which took on a brief, bright yellow glow, and he shot forward like a bat out of hell.

Less than a second into the run and he could already hear the deafening boom erupting from behind him. It was loud enough to shatter one's ear drums, but he paid it no mind beyond slight discomfort. Lightning flashed around him, trailing after him in a bright yellow and crimson streak, and the world seemed to blur together until he was coherent enough to jolt his mental processes forwards. Suddenly, time slowed down around him, but he could still feel the effects of the run- the euphoric feeling was undeniable as he let lose all the energy he'd been holding back since the fateful lightning strike. The wind on his face, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest, fast enough that all he could hear was its continuous beating, the feeling of it all was indescribable, and the best part was that he didn't even feel slightly tired. It was like he was born to be a speedster, something which definitely showed as he cheered to himself, letting lose an elated _"Woohoo!"_ that held no meaning beyond the pure joy he felt in that moment. He felt invincible, as though nothing could hurt him, or even hope to.

It was over all too quickly. He'd been disappointed when he reached the timer, and if he wasn't there for science's sake, he would have considered taking another run. Instead, he picked up the timer and stared at the number, uncomprehending. Sure, he knew he'd been going fast- the instantaneous sonic boom would have been the first clue. But he definitely hadn't expected to be going four times the speed of sound.

' _How am I still alive?'_ thought Barry as he stared at himself in amazement. He'd just broken every law of physics with regards to friction and air resistance. By all means, he should have been burnt to a crisp long before he'd even approached the speed of sound. But he wasn't. He was still there, standing, perfectly healthy as far as he could tell. Not only that, but the minute he hit 584 mph, his organs should have been liquefied from the sudden acceleration and deceleration, but somehow he seemed perfectly healthy and not-at-all missing vital organs. It was as though some invisible speed aura had protected him, shielded him from the laws of physics.

He didn't really know how he felt about that, to have the laws he so deeply believed in shattered in an instant. It shook him to his core, but at the same time, he felt triumphant. In less than an hour, he'd proven himself to be a physical representation of what people thought to be impossible.

He hadn't just _found_ the impossible, he _became_ it.

* * *

"…Are you sure this is wise, Dr. Wells? I mean, you're a very busy man, and your work is very important. I don't think I need to mention how unreliable some teenagers can be, and given some of our previous experiences, like Mr. Jamenson-"

"Ms. Bowker."

"-and let's not even get started on-"

" _Ms. Bowker!"_

The light-haired bespectacled receptionist cut herself off for a moment, clutching her tablet like a lifeline as a wave of embarrassment dawned over her when she realised she was rambling. She feared for her job for a moment, if only for contradicting her boss, but managed to crock out a timid "Yes?"

"I am well aware of these issues. However, I believe it would be quite beneficial for the company- not only to have some extra hands to keep the creative minds focused on the _important_ matters, but also to gain some good PR and scout out some talent, preferably _before_ Mercury Labs or Luthorcorp get their hands on them- I shan't let them snatch potential genii again, like they did with Professor Stein, or that one kid… Ronald, I think his name was."

"…I…I see, sir," she continued hesitantly as she averted her eyes from the bemused time-traveller. "It's your decision, so no doubt it will be worthwhile, you have a… a knack for judging people's abilities-"

 _Clearly not, if I hired you_ , Eobard thought to himself in annoyance.

"-but sir, why _four?_ One or two interns, that's perfectly understandable, especially to such a busy man, but _four?"_

"Yes, Ms. Bowker, _four interns. Now,_ is there anything _important_ you'd like to address, or are you done wasting my time?"

* * *

 **A/N: So, Barry's discovering his speed- slowly, but he'll get there, soon enough. Oh, and Eobard's up to his old shenanigans again- who's up for some villainous plotting? I know I am!**

 **So, interns are probably pretty obvious, but who can guess the last one's identity? :O? The person's actually really relevant to the first arc, so props to anyone who can figure it out.**

 **Oh, and to those wondering, the minor OC's last name is pronounced Bow- as in bow and arrow- and Ker, which is pronounced exactly as it looks. And yes, I did make it up, so I hope it's passable! No, the OC probably won't pop up anytime soon- I know there are some people who absolutely despise OCs, so I try to keep the number to a minimum. Well, that, and the fact that I fear the potential for them to turn into Mary Sue's…**

 **The thought just makes me nauseous…**

 **Also, MERRY CHRISTMAS! …to those who celebrate it, anyway! And to those who don't, Happy Start Of Winter! I hope you've all enjoyed the gift! The next update should be on New Year's!**

 **Anyway, on another note, it's time for the QOTC! Thank you all to those who have kept reading throughout this entire story so far, I hope to do my best to keep you entertained along the ride, which should be a** _ **long**_ **one!**

 **Today's Question: In the comics, Barry and Superman have raced** _ **many**_ **times in an attempt to see who is faster. I ask you, dear viewers, to tell me who** _ **you**_ **believe is faster, and for what reason!**

 **Last time's winner: CaptainStoner! Congratz, and a very merry holiday season to you!**

 **I hope you've all enjoyed your Christmas gift, maybe you'd give me one in return by reviewing?**

 **Yeah, I'm just blatantly begging at this point xD**

 **So, some of you guys might be interested in a story update. First of all, remember when I wrote in the first chapter that I'd probably have the first 10 chapters done? Well, I grossly overestimated, but I should be able to handle the workload, so no worries there! I've also got the first 4 story arcs planned out, and arc 4 in** _ **excruciating**_ **detail- which I think you shall all enjoy, but feel free to submit any and all plot ideas you may have swimming in your brain via PM or review! I aim to have this story around 10 arcs long before I conclude, something that should hopefully be possible to think up considering the large space of time between story arcs, but any and all help is appreciated!**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**

 **Next Chapter: Criminal Affairs**


	5. Chapter 5- Criminal Affairs

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life's just gotten a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry.

 **Beta Reader: Currently, none**

 **Created: 27/10/16**

 **Modified: 31/10/16, 03/11/16, 04/11/16, 05/11/16, 06/11/16, 07/11/16, 08/11/16, 20/11/16, 7/12/16, 28/12/16**

 **Total word count: 3336**

 **Published: 01/01/17**

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 5- Criminal Affairs**

 **By SilentEevee**

* * *

"So, are we planning on doing something this Halloween?" asked Barry eagerly as he sat down at the lunch table.

Cisco looked to Caitlin, who shrugged. "I mean, not really," he replied. "What, with everything that's been going on around here lately, Halloween wasn't exactly our highest priority, dude."

"You guys aren't going to Daphne Dean's* party?" Iris asked with a hint of confusion in her voice. "I thought you'd both be all over the idea. It's a costume party, you know," she added, trying to persuade them.

Caitlin raised an eyebrow. "Costume party? I haven't heard anything about that…" she trailed off, looking at Barry questioningly.

"Me neither, have you heard anything about it, dude?" asked Barry, realisation dawning on him.

"Nope," Cisco agreed with a scowl. "Guess we weren't invited- _again_. Not that surprising, though. She hates us."

"I wouldn't say that…" Iris stated. "Maybe she just forgot to tell you about it? Did you check your e-mail? It might be in your spam folder."

Taking out her phone, Caitlin snorted before she'd even turned it on. "I highly doubt it- would you look at that? No invites."

Iris frowned, clearly upset that her two friend groups didn't seem to get along. She opened her mouth to speak, before Cisco cut her off.

"Don't worry about it, Iris. Not your fault she doesn't like us. Besides, it's Halloween- we don't need her help to have a good time. Also, have you _seen_ Caitlin trying to dance? It's like watching a turtle trying to walk on two legs,"

Caitlin was about to retort, but her rebuttal fell dry as she conceded to his stated fact. "Yeah, I really just have no idea what to do with my arms. And I trip a lot."

"You're sure your cool with this?" Iris asked. "I could always confront Daphne about it- or I could just hang out with you guys-"

" _Go,_ Iris. Don't start a fight with her over nothing," Barry suggested. "Seriously, we're used to it. Go have fun- knowing us, we'll probably end up watching another Lord of the Rings marathon, or binge-watch Star Trek."

"Actually, should we theme our movies this year?" asked Caitlin contemplatively. "I mean, it's Halloween so…"

"That's not a bad idea- anyone up for _The Conjuring?_ Or _The Shining?_ I heard _The Babadook i_ s pretty good. They're on Netflix, too, so that's a plus."

"…The last time we watched a scary movie, you ended up screaming so loud the neighbours thought you were being murdered. You kept calling us at midnight because you thought someone was going to murder you and _sell your organs on Ebay_. Now you want to watch _The Conjuring_ , of all things?" Caitlin asked incredulously. "Do you enjoy torturing yourself?"

"That was like… four years ago-"

"-it was last month-"

"-I can handle it now! Besides, isn't the idea of Halloween _to_ get scared out of your mind?"

"I mean, I'm game so long as you don't start crying over the phone again," Barry decided, before turning to Caitlin. "You in?"

"Sure… but we're picking something more kid-friendly. Like… 13+, _at best._ "

"Sounds fair- Cisco?"

"…I can handle it, you know…"

" _Cisco."_

"Fine…"

"So it's decided then- my place?" he offered.

"Actually," Cisco began. "My parents are taking Golden-Boy to some weird piano concert, so we've got the whole house to ourselves. We should even contain the mess to Dante's room- it'd be worth it to see his face once we're done with the place, even if I'm forced to do the clean-up."

"So it's settled then," Barry decided, before turning back to Iris. "See? We'll be fine."

"If you insist. So it looks like that Spider-Man costume you bought is going to waste then."

"Ha, in your dreams!" Cisco exclaimed. "There is no better way to watch movies on the Day of the Dead than in your coolest or scariest costumes. Besides, who knows, we might even decide to go trick or treating later."

"Aren't we a little too old for that?" asked Caitlin, hesitantly, as though unwilling to admit the idea to even herself.

"You are _never_ too old for free candy. _Never!_ "

* * *

"You look amazing," Barry had complimented Iris, who stepped out of her room looking absolutely astonishing in her Hermione Granger outfit.

"I hope so- I'd hate for all that work to have been for nothing. You're not dressing up?" she asked, curious as to why he wasn't wearing his outfit yet.

Barry shrugged. "I have another hour before I going to meet up with Cisco- it doesn't actually take too long to wear the suit- like twenty minutes." _Or seconds, when you have superspeed_ , he added mentally.

"And then you wonder why you're always late…" Iris teased, and Barry snorted.

"Trust me, I'm not going to be late. Heck, if this new mode of transportation works, I'll never be late ever again."

Iris laughed. "Sure, Barry. I completely believe you," she said in an amused tone. "See you after the party," she called out. "Oh, and if you're going to be back before Joe and I, take a key with you."

"When's he coming back?"

"He's working the night shift today so… he's going to be a while."

"Oh, okay then, thanks for reminding me."

"No problem! I better go though, or I'm going to be late! There's this new kid in school named Eddie- he transferred from Keystone High. Anyway, he said he's going to show me this cool self-defence move he learned, and I don't want to keep him waiting!"

Barry's smile dimmed slightly as he saw the look in her eyes, but nonetheless he managed to fake just enough nonchalance to wish her a good time as she left. He sighed- he knew that look like the back of his hands, because he wore it practically all the time when he was around Iris. It was the signs of a crush- a big one.

* * *

"Are you planning on actually getting back to work, or does your break extend to the whole workday?" Joe asked his partner, Fred Chyre, as he stepped out of the lunchroom.

"I am working- I've been promoted to supervisor," Fred joked. "My job is to make sure you do your job- shouldn't you be doing it, right about now? Do I have to dock your pay, Detective West?"

Joe resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Just get in the squad car- we're supposed to be patrolling the west side of the city. I don't fancy being laid off by Captain Singh because you couldn't get off your ass, Fred, I got two kids to raise."

"Geez, what's wrong with you today? Is it that time of the month?" he snarked, only to back down at Joe's irritated glare. "See? This, this is what I'm talking about. What, did our favourite genius-orphan get hit by a bus this time?"

"No, Fred, Barry's fine."

"Well if it's not baby-face, then its Ms. Inquisitive, isn't it? What did she get a boyfriend now or something?" he asked light-heartedly, only for his eyes to widen as he realized he was on to something. "Wait, she's dating someone now?"

"I don't see how this is any of your business, Chyre."

"'Course it is- I wanna be there when you threaten the kid. 'Should be a riot. I already pity the poor bastard." Chyre said as he grabbed his regulation jacket and headed towards the door.

They had only been in the car for about three minutes before a bulletin came over the radio.

" _This is dispatch, we've got a code 832 over on 58_ _th_ _and Sheffield Avenue- arson threat. Requesting all available units- same drill as last week; the guy's planning to light a building up like a bonfire, only this time it's an apartment building, rather than an office building."_

"This is unit 52," Joe responded as Chyre changed their route. "We are heading towards the sight- how much time we got?"

" _Half an hour to clear out the building of all civilians- make that twenty nine minutes."_

"This guy again?" asked Joe as he and his partner, Fred Chyre, stepped out of their patrol car. "That's the third time this month."

"Should we even bother coming over here at this point? Let's face it, chances are we're not gonna catch him," Chyre grunted as he slammed the door shut.

Joe sighed- he trusted his partner with his life, he really did. But sometimes his laziness was too frustrating, especially on cases like these. "Let's just go check it out; worst that'll happen is neither of us will have to worry about taxes anymore."

Chyre barked with dry laughter as he handed his partner his safety gear. "Just so you know; if I have to brave a burning building without catching this guy, you're buying me a drink. And don't even try to back out of it- I'll come back from the dead as a ghost if I have to."

"Just get to work- the firefighters aren't here yet, so we're going to have to clear out the buildings before the fire starts. Make sure to mark the apartments you clear out."

"I know how to do my own job, Joe," Chyre replied, before running into the soon-to-be-burned building, Joe following suit from the back entrance to cover more ground.

* * *

Turns out that clearing a building due to an arson threat is harder than they make it look on TV. Humans are extremely sentimental creatures- they obsess over the most pointless materialistic objects. It definitely wasn't the first time that someone delayed an evacuation to run and grab something they deemed valuable- a laptop, purse, phone, or even just so they could update their social media page with a selfie and status update- and Joe was certain it wouldn't be the last. It was amazing, though, how people could place a hunk of metal and glass higher up on their priority list then the life of a three year old girl- something that happened all-too-often because the inhabitants of the first apartments evacuated took far too long to actually _evacuate._

Such was the case on that particular day, as both Joe and Chyre had only managed to evacuate half the building by the time the first torrent of flames where unleashed.

Pyromaniacs are right about one thing, at the very least; house fires are incredibly destructive, powerful, and even slightly majestic in their might. That is of course, unless the fuel it's burning happens to have live beings walking around inside it. Then it just becomes a terror house of your worst nightmares, and a race against the clock for survival.

Up to thirty years ago, unless you happened to live in a wooden cottage, you'd have about fourteen to seventeen minutes to get out of the house before the fire gained much traction. Nowadays however, with the amount of flammable, synthetic materials inside the house, the timing is around two to three minutes. That meant that Joe and Chyre had two to three minutes from the moment the smoke detectors went off to evacuate seven flights of stairs and escape the building.

Yeah, they were pretty much doomed from the start.

Now, many people don't understand the basic safety procedures that come with house fires, but most people understand that the higher up you are in an unstable structure, the worse off you are. Of course, considering the fact that Joe and Chyre were _police officers_ , and the fact that there were civilians unaware of the danger they were in on the upper floors, they didn't have that luxury. Sure, most people would have left the moment it was clear that they were in some form of danger, but it wasn't unheard of for a slumbering person to be burnt alive- or rather, suffocated by the smoke _then_ burnt beyond recognition. Because of that, the two public servants had to venture up a building just to make sure no civilians were caught up in the blaze.

As it turns out, it was a good thing they did. By the time they met up at the top floor, a teenage girl had been wearing headphones at the time of the alarm, and was almost in serious trouble. Her only saving grace was the fact that Joe hadn't agreed on abandoning the building when the fire was lit.

With the fire spreading so rapidly, toxic gasses were quickly enveloping the rooms. At this point, their only hope was finding a fire escape, but the smoke was so thick that it was getting hard to see, even though the signs were luminous. Eventually though, they did find their way through. Chyre and the young girl were quick to escape the inferno, but movement caught the corner of Joe's eyes, and he hesitated.

"Joe, what the heck do you think you're doing?" called Chyre when he noticed his partner had not followed.

"Chyre, I saw someone up here- I think someone else might be stuck."

"West, if you don't come down here, the next time I see you will be at the morgue. Let the fire department handle this- this isn't your job."

"By then it'll be too late!"

Without giving Chyre any chance to talk him out of it, he dove back into the building, despite his cries of protest.

Tracing his steps to where he believed the person had been, he started calling out for someone, _anyone_ , in his attempt to find the straggler. Just as he was about to give up, he spotted the victim. Charred beyond recognition laid what looked like an elderly person (either that, or a teenager- it was really hard to tell from just the size), clutching a bag towards their chest. Blood trickled slowly from around the body, and everywhere but their back was covered in third and fourth degree burns. It looked like the kind of carcass you'd find buried in a pile of rubble after the fire was doused.

Normally, this wouldn't have been strange- he'd seen more bodies in such conditions than he'd care to admit. The only problem was that the fire hadn't yet reached the top floor. That only left one possibility for the cause of death- one which he didn't fancy facing as the world burnt around him.

* * *

The heat was almost unbearable. If it hadn't been for his special heat-resistant clothing, he wouldn't have been able to even stay conscious in such extreme conditions, pyromania be damned. Pure willpower alone wouldn't get you that far, especially at the rate the oxygen was being used up.

But he powered through it, greeting the flames that danced around him like an old friend- or rather, a very useful ally. Ever since the incident a few months ago on the job, where he'd first been enlightened with the majestic, destructive might of the fire, he'd been obsessed with it. He started incorporating it into his very being- all his crime scenes were set ablaze and they only managed to come to pass thanks to its existence. He positively adored it, despite the way it scarred his skin, which still ached on occasion from phantom pains. He wore those scars with pride, the way a police would wear his badge- it was a shame they were hidden away whenever he executed his jobs. A necessary evil- the pain experienced by his skin after a few minutes' worth of walking through the flames would give his position away quickly; and even if he managed to remain entirely silent while he was cooked alive, seeing a scarred man adoring a flaming building would be incredibly suspicious in itself. He didn't even dare chance it tonight, where he could freely walk around and pretend his equipment was an incredibly life-like costume, just in case. Perhaps a few too many jobs with his former partner had instilled him with a bit of excess paranoia, but it was better than being overtly reckless.

Focusing on the task at hand, the arsonist opened another door in the building, savouring the fresh, hot oxygen before his flames could burn it all. He had a time limit- every second was worth its weight in gold. Quite literally, considering he was robbing an apartment building of its jewellery.

He briefly heard a gasp as he entered the room. Whirling around at near-inhuman speeds, he'd found the origin of the involuntary noise- a woman, around seventy, who seemed to be wearing a hearing aid. Well, that explained why she hadn't left, at least. No matter, if she hadn't left then it was her own fault- he gave the police plenty of time to evacuate the place. He couldn't be blamed. He pointed his flamethrower at her, and she was dead before she could even think of screaming.

He cleared out another box of precious stones, leaving just the cheapest of the lot to melt and cover his motives after he left, feeling no remorse over the murder he just committed. Placing them in a special flame-retardant bag, made entirely of the same cloth he'd used to protect himself from the flames, he'd soon heard the tell-tale siren of incoming fire fighters.

 _Crap!_ he thought to himself as he dodged a piece of flaming debris that fell from the ceiling. _Already? It's fucking Halloween! Shouldn't they have been slowed down by a parade or something? Argh, Snart was always the time keeper… no matter. I'm finishing this job, even if it kills me._

* * *

It didn't take long for their paths to cross. The arson's greed eventually lead him straight to the detective, who was less than happy about the situation, wherein the two were at a standoff, each pointing their weapons at one another and daring the other to pull the trigger.

"Listen," Joe began, sweat streaking down his face from the intense heat. He was starting to feel a bit dizzy- was the room spinning, or was it just him? No, that was probably the lack of oxygen. "Look, this place is falling apart, and if we don't get out of here soon we're going to be worse off than that woman in apartment 12D."

"What? You're asking me to abandon my score, _let myself go to jail_ , and allow your fire buddies to smother this beautiful flame? Are you off your nut?"

"Yeah, sure, _I'm_ off my nut," Joe mumbled to himself. Clearly the masked arsonist had heard him, because not a moment later, a torrent of flame had been launched at him. With speed that surprised even himself, Joe managed to find cover beneath the door, although that obviously wouldn't work a second time seeing as it had combusted.

Pulling off the safety, Joe fired a bullet towards his assailant. It hit him dead centre in his chest, but he didn't seem fazed beyond a bit of shock from the force. Bullet proof vest under the cooling suit, then. Damn. Oh and would you look at that, the sparks from his gun _also_ decided to join in the combustion fun- as though there wasn't enough fire as it was.

The two traded some more blows, a jet of flame eventually nicking Joe at one point but didn't appear to be a major cause for worry, until the masked arsonist suddenly stopped firing with a cuss- Chyre and the other firefighters were attempting to drag him out of the building, and they were calling out for him. Suddenly, the arsonist turned-tail and ran deeper into the combusting building, running through the flames with no hesitation, only pausing to cover his tracks with another jet of flame.

Joe wasn't spared any time to recuperate, however. Mere moments after, the combination of intense heat, toxic fumes released by burning plastic objects, and the lack of oxygen in the room finally proved to be too overwhelming. Joe soon fell victim to unconsciousness, and the last thing he saw were the bright orange tendrils of flames drawing nearer as he hit the ground.

* * *

 **A/N: Wow this chapter took forever to write! My muse seriously hates me- I'd planned a writing spree around the mid-terms. I originally wanted to crank out 2-3 chapters in 6 days of freedom. Then the dreaded writer's block hit and I wasted 5 entire days. That's partially why I had to extend the date when I originally wanted to publish- it threw my schedule off by at least a fortnight.**

 ***Daphne Dean is one of Barry Allen's love interests in the comics. She's not very well known, and no, she won't be having any sort of relationship whatsoever with our favourite speedster. Again, strictly Snowbarry.** _ **IF**_ **there's any other love interest, and I'm not guaranteeing anything, then they'll end up breaking up/dying/moving or whatever I come up with. Snowbarry is endgame in this story, to honour the poll on my previous version.**

 **Also, I think I have a problem with overestimating Cisco's ability to cope with scary stuff. The show gives some mixed messages. Like, he faces off against** _ **Black Siren**_ **and offers himself up as bait for Reverse Flash during "The Trap", so I assumed that a 16 year old version of him would be able to enjoy some scary movies. 'Course, then "Shade" comes out and completely destroys my train of thought with their offhand comments on Cisco's movie tolerance… I had to rewrite that entire scene. I also had to cut the scary movie scene I'd wrote because of it. I spent so long on it, too! The story is going to be like, 400 words shorter now!**

 **Oh and to those wondering, yes Barry will be much faster than he is in the show, because the show's concept of speed is incredibly screwed up in some aspects.**

 **Case in point: For time to slow down, you would need to be travelling at speeds approaching the speed of light, or at least** _ **think**_ **that fast. To time travel, you would actually need to go** _ **faster than light.**_ **Barry does this as early as season 1. And yet, he could only access Mach 3.3 (3.3 times the speed of sound) and then Mach 13.5 with the** _ **tachyon enhancement**_ **, the same speed which let him run to an alternate universe. The fastest jet in the world travels at** _ **Mach**_ _ **3.35.**_

 **Basically, this means that, if this were to occur in real life, we would have** _ **long since**_ **unlocked the secrets of the universe, and completely destabilized the timeline after bullshitting with it one too many times, and probably created an cross-universal war with an alternate timeline where Nazi Germany won WW2, or something. Also, it would mean that you could easily kill Barry by just, buying one of these jets and chasing him with a machine gun, or heat-seeking missiles, whatever works. And that is a** _ **huge**_ **injustice done to my favourite superhero, and one of the most** _ **powerful**_ **people in the DC multiverse.**

 **Oh, and for comparison, Barry runs at Mach 13.5, the speed of light in a vacuum is** _ **Mach 874030.489796**_ **, or 10^8 m/s .That's approximately** _ **64743 times faster than Barry!**_ **Even if we were to take the speed of light at sea level, rather than a vacuum, to be entirely fair, that would mean that it is** _ **64724**_ **times faster.** _ **Rounded down.**_ **Heck, even if we give him a generous estimate, raising his speed to Mach 14 to make up for friction and air resistance, it is** _ **still**_ **pitifully slow.**

 **Thus, I call bullshit, and shall proceed to fix this injustice as I deem fit.**

 **(Sorry, I'm kinda a physics geek… I love the show, and the actual science they use in certain episodes is awesome, but the blatant breaking of the laws of physics in certain parts makes me want to tear my hair out. And even if we somehow pretended that yes, mach 3 is somehow lightspeed [which is ridiculous] I still wouldn't be happy- I'm looking at you,** _ **Doppler effect-**_ **light does** _ **not**_ **work like that!)**

 **(For those wondering, I** _ **will**_ **be incorporating some aspects of real life physics into my story, but you should be able to understand it even if you never studied it, don't worry! And more often than not, I'll be using some of the comic's explanations for how Barry defies physics [Like how he isn't burnt by friction every time he runs- speedforce aura!])**

 **Oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR! IT'S 2017! WE ALL SURVIVED 2016! :D**

 **As for the QOTC, I'm pleased to announce that last week's Christmas winner was superheros17! Congratz, dude!**

 **Now the reason I chose your answer as best, beyond the fact that you were the first to answer, would be because of this little quote here that I was looking for in an answer: _"_** Flash's fastest speed is going at a plank and he's been known to go faster than a teleporter in the comics." **So again, congratz on getting it right!**

 **As for this week's question... let's make it slightly more challenging, for the new year. As you probably may know, Harrison Wells doesn't exist in the comics. So, where did they get the inspiration for his name from? Because I'm so kind, I'll even give you two tips! 1. Time Travel. 2. What does season 3's Wells do as an occupation?**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **SilentEevee**

 **Next Chapter: Conflagration**


	6. Chapter 6- Conflagration

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life's just gotten a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry.

 **Beta Reader: Currently, none**

 **Created: 12/11/16**

 **Modified: 19/11/16, 07/12/16, 08/12/16, 09/12/16, 16/12/16, 17/12/16,18/12/16, 22/12/16, 03/01/17**

 **Total word count: 3631**

 **Published: 15/01/17**

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 6- Conflagration**

 **By SilentEevee**

 _Beep. Beep. Beep._

"Is he going to be okay?" Iris asked desperately, still dressed in her Halloween outfit despite it being nearly 5 am, eyes red and puffy as she looked at her father's unconscious body on the hospital bed. It seemed like everyone she cared was winding up in the hospital one way or another these days. If this kept up, she might have to permanently reserve a seat here.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," Dr Chapel reassured. "Trust me- it looks worse than it is. I'm afraid to say that your father's suffering from smoke inhalation, as well as some second-degree burns, but it's nothing too serious- in any case, he's still stable. The only issue that worries me is that he's also inhaled minor traces of dioxins, that is to say the chemicals released when burning plastic."

"…Is that bad?"

"In large doses? Extremely so. Dioxins are potent toxins- one of the most toxic chemicals known to man- that can cause long-term damage such as cancer, immune system suppression, diabetes, or even death if you have a prior illness such as asthma. Luckily, your father's only inhaled a very small dosage. It's possible that it may leave some short-term effects, such as ulcers, but highly unlikely. Your father is going to be fine- he'll probably be out of here in a few days, and then you can put this all behind you."

Iris allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief.

"How's your brother doing, by the way?" Dr. Chapel asked. "We never did figure out a solution to his metabolism problem- I hope it's not causing him trouble."

"No… no he's fine. He should be here soon- I called him a few minutes ago."

* * *

"So you're sure Joe's going to be okay?" Caitlin asked as the duo walked to their respective homes from school, being harshly reminded of recent events as she heard the faint siren of a cop car a few streets away. It was always hard for the group whenever Joe got hurt, but he rarely-if ever- got hurt enough to warrant more than an overnight stay at the hospital.

"Yeah, yeah Dr. Chapel said that he should be out before the week ends," Barry replied with a touch of worry still in his voice despite his reassurance as he looked glumly towards the ground with his hands tucked into the pockets of his red hoodie.

"That's good, then," she began. "So do they have any leads on the guy- Heatwave or whatever the news is calling him?"

Barry shook his head. "Nope, nada. This guy's been torching buildings since before I got struck by lightning. If anything, he's so unpredictable that he's actually making it _harder_ for the CSI department to piece anything together. Kinda makes you wonder if they're ever gonna catch him- if they're even _able_ to."

"Well, damn," Caitlin mumbled. "Did Joe manage to get any clues, though? I mean, he could've gotten a good look at the guy."

"Nothing beyond the weapon of choice- a handheld flamethrower- and the fact that he covers his face with a mask."

"…Well that's already something, right? I mean, don't you have to register weapons? Even if you don't know the serial number, there can't be that many people with a _handheld flamethrower_."

"That's the thing though- according to Chyre, this weapon was a prototype from STAR Labs for a military contract- not even on the market yet. It was stolen at the same time that ice gun thing was."

"So 'Heatwave' has a buddy, then?" she asked, with a slight roll of her eyes. "Am I the only one who thinks those kinds of names are ridiculous? I mean, seriously, they sound like something out of a 50s' comic book."

"That's an offense to comics- even _they_ have more taste than that."

Caitlin couldn't even get a chuckle out before a police car went zooming past the duo, siren whining with a vengeance and moving at speeds that made it seem like a blur to all who didn't have superspeed. A moment later, another followed, quickly tailed by at least three ambulances and seven fire trucks. Something big was going down.

Barry, startled by the turn of events, made a split second decision and turned to Caitlin. "I'm gonna go see what's going on," he told her. "You go on ahead- I'll catch up with you."

"Wait, what?" she asked, completely bewildered. "You can't seriously be thinking of going there- you could get hurt like Joe, or worse!"

Her protests fell on deaf ears, however, as Barry had already turned tail to try and catch up with the authorities, keeping himself at a near-human speed until he managed to get away from prying eyes. That was when he let loose, however, and completely disappeared in a blazing trail of lightning.

" _Barry!"_

She took off after him, determined to talk some sense into him, only to be completely stunned that, after turning the corner, Barry wasn't even visible anymore.

 _When did he get so fast?_ she thought absentmindedly, between her bouts of irritation.

* * *

It didn't take long to figure out the crime scene's location, considering that there was a tower of smoke rising out of it. He honestly wondered how he hadn't realised sooner what was going on- cop cars were running rampant all morning, and while Barry doubted that they were solely tasked on finding the arson, he wouldn't have been surprised if a great majority of them were directed towards it. Cops tended to react viciously if you hurt, or God forbid, _killed_ one of their own.

Now that he was there, however, he wondered what it was, _exactly_ , that he planned on doing. He was a freaking 16 year old kid, not Spider-man! Besides, what would Joe think if word got out that he fought against a _supervillain_ , let alone the questions that would arise on how he did so when he couldn't even get an 18 year old off his back. And if anyone saw him using his speed…

It was probably best that he turned back… He promised Joe that he'd be more careful, after the lightning, despite the fact that he couldn't exactly control the forces of nature. Yeah… he should really just go back and apologise to Caitlin…

" _It's too far- the ladder won't reach!"_ a firefighter shouted to his friend.

" _But someone's still up there!"_

" _What do you expect us to do- run up there? Look at the place, Jane, the minute we even_ try _to step onto a higher floor, the whole thing's going to collapse!"_

" _So what, you want to just do nothing?!"_

" _No, I want to put out this fire before it can have the chance to jump to another building. I think that'd save a lot more lives than just the one, don't you think?"_

 _Damn it,_ he thought as his brow contorted in worry and his conscience tugged at his gut, filling him with an uncomfortable feeling.

Thinking quickly, he ducked out of the crowd of people staring at the flames and into an alleyway to figure out his plan of action, unnoticed. Pulling up his hoodie to conceal what little of his identity he could, he allowed the weird, tingling sensation he still didn't have a name for to flow through him. With his superspeed at his beck and all, he ran into the 15-story apartment building with the air of someone who was about to commit a suicide mission.

* * *

He'd see these cases all the time; maniacs, reaping the benefits of destruction at the expense of innocent civilians. A single mother, and elderly couple, a newly graduated college student, hoping to make his way in the world; people who had done no wrong and had no idea of the tragedies they were about to suffer.

Most of the time, he and his partner would manage to catch the criminals within a week, and even though no prison sentence, no amount of money could ever make up for the loss of a loved one, they would do their damned best to make sure they caught their perp and make sure justice was delivered. Both of them were truly devoted to making sure that the city was safe for their loved ones, even if it meant putting their lives on the line to personally ensure that.

But then these kinds of cases came about; a man, seemingly wanting nothing more than to watch the city burn, putting his partner in the hospital, and managing to evade them time and time again. A man who would gleefully sacrifice the lives of others, just to satisfy his own sick, twisted cravings. It made him sick, but most of all, it made him lose faith; in himself, in his co-workers, and in humanity as a whole.

And people wondered why, the minute his shift ended, the first thing he would do was get as drunk as humanly possible.

Detective Fred Chyre absolutely hated feeling powerless. He could joke around until his lungs gave out, could fire a gun like he'd been born to use it, but he couldn't do anything to stop a man from being burnt to death if he couldn't get to him in time. He hated looking into the eyes of a child who'd just lost his mother, of a man who just lost his son, and telling them that they couldn't save them in time. He was all too familiar with how being on the other side felt.

His partner didn't believe in feeling powerless- something Chyre truly admired. He'd given up the last time Heatwave had struck, and because of that, Joe had ran off into that hellhole, alone, and almost got himself killed. He'd never forgive himself for that, but he knew he wasn't solely to blame- most of it lay with the monster who'd set the building aflame in the first place.

But he couldn't do anything about it; couldn't bring that man to justice. He was only human; he couldn't fly, he wasn't invulnerable, and he certainly couldn't walk into a burning building without a care in the world. It was at times like this when the world around him begged for a miracle, one that would, unfortunately, never arrive.

Except, you know, when a blazing trail of lightning bursts from the burning shell of what once was an apartment building and suddenly deposits a bewildered and soot-covered child in the middle of the street.

…Wait, what?

Chyre blinked once, twice, rubbed his eyes for a minute, but the girl was still there, looking just as confused, shocked and amazed as he was, if not more so.

But she wasn't the only one. More people followed suit, materializing out of thin air in a burst of golden lightning, one which, if he looked closely, he could see darting to and from the flaming wreckage.

Wide eyed, Fred carefully brushed aside his coat, pulled out a tiny flask, opened it and dumped all its contents onto the street below.

* * *

It was during his third run through the building when he saw it. And by it, he meant the guy shooting torrents of flames out of a gun-like device smaller than a machine gun, covering his tracks as he ran rampant throughout the building, breaking into people's houses despite the fact that the world was burning to the ground around him. He was so non-pulsed by the flames it was almost inhuman, and Barry could only conclude after watching him walk through a literal wall of flame that his suit offered him some sort of cooling-effect besides protection from the flames that tickled him.

The sight made him pause- he'd never actually seen such a blatant act of felony up close before, and certainly not to this degree. The novelty of the act soon wore off though, when a falling piece of ceiling almost crushed him, promptly reminding him that he wasn't invulnerable just because he was fast and had a very, very high chance of being burnt to death if he wasn't careful.

He waited until the thief was distracted enough by his greed, something that didn't take very long at all, and darted forwards, crossing the burning room and snatching the heat gun all in one go. The flames around him flared with the gust of wind he left in his wake, and the arsonist suddenly snapped to attention, realising he wasn't alone and unarmed mere moments after Barry grinded to a halt.

"Who's 'ere?" he shouted, his voice echoing loudly across the room as he reached for a pair of spare rifles that hung by his waist, clutching one tightly in each hand. "I know someone's up here! Come out, or I promise you, you won't live long 'nough to regret your mistake!"

Barry stayed silent, ducked behind a corner and trying to think of his next move. He realised then that he actually hadn't thought of anything beyond getting the gun away from the criminal, and his actual plan in taking the guy down was sorely missing some vital steps.

 _Well, shit._

"A'right then, I fucking warned you!"

And with a loud series of _CRACKS_ , gunshots rippled throughout the room, and Barry made sure that he was completely hidden behind his corner. That turned out to prove ineffective, as one of the bullets ricocheted at an angle and grazed him when he wasn't paying attention. He hissed involuntarily, but the sound, carried faster by the sheer amount of heat in the room, easily reached Heatwave.

"Gotcha, you little bastard!" he called out, and turned his aim on the origin of Barry's cacophony.

The gunshots burst through once again, but this time Barry was ready for them. As soon as they emitted their deafening _boom_ , he shot out of his hiding place and turned to face them, picking them out with some difficulty as his accelerated perception activated. He then plucked them out of the air with ease as they inched towards him with the speed of a snail.

 _Crick! Creeeeek!_ _ **Crunch!**_

Barry's eyes widened, and he couldn't quite get out of the way fast enough before the entire floor collapsed beneath his and his adversary's weight.

The duo fell down two floors before Barry managed to latch on to something semi-stable. He not so much as felt but rather heard the sickening pop of his shoulder dislocating as his momentum was abruptly halted, but it was about the extent of his injuries. Below him, Heatwave fell down all the way to the ground floor before stopping, and Barry worried for a moment that he might have accidentally killed the man.

Dropping down, he ignored the protesting flare of pain in his leg as he touched the ground to check on the criminal. He put two fingers to his neck, trying to feel for a pulse, but couldn't feel anything due to the thickness of the material. Opting for plan b, he kicked the downed enemy in the shin, prompting a groan of pain from the semi-unconscious man, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Looking at the heat gun he'd dropped in the fall, he stared at the device with disgusted contempt as he realised how badly it was broken, crushed by falling debris and barely visible as it was. He briefly considered running off with it to destroy it properly and make sure the man never got hold of such a device ever again, but thought better of it when he realised that the CSI could make better use of it for evidence, though at this point not much of it would be needed.

Satisfied with his work, he quickly got the hell out of that before the situation could get any worse.

* * *

Barry winced, grinding his teeth in pain as he proceeded to peel his blood-stained clothing off, some of the fibres tearing off entirely underneath the rapidly healing patches of skin. The red liquid practically glued them to his injuries, making Barry want to just tear off the whole thing to get it over with. Though he appreciated his newly-discovered accelerated regeneration- something he was sure that would have many practical uses- he did find himself loathing it when it came to such a situation.

Despite his pain, Barry couldn't find that he regretted his decision, however reckless it may have been. Turning on the news to distract himself, he practically glowed with happiness as the survivors he plucked out of the arson site described their awe and gratitude. The feeling of elation, especially amplified when they reported that they'd finally caught the bruised and battered arson, was indescribable.

It soon went away with a grunt of pain as he popped his shoulder back into place.

It soon lead him to the question, though, did he want to keep doing this?

He was doing some real good in the world- seven people would have lost their lives that day, and Heatwave would still be on the loose if he hadn't intervened. Seven people had another chance at life, and even if his reasoning for going after the man was slightly selfish, the results were undeniable. The same went for the sense of satisfaction it gave him, knowing that he might actually be able to make a difference in the most effective way possible, so that less people would have their families torn apart like his had been.

On the other hand, it was a big risk to his health. He could get his friends and family in trouble if his secret was ever discovered- criminals would come after them and Joe might actually be arrested for child neglect or endangerment, something that couldn't be fair in any sense of the word. Not to mention how worried they'd be if they supported his idea, and how much discord he'd cause between them if they disapproved.

He stared at his ruined hoodie, indecisive in the matter, a million thoughts running through his head.

 _Do I really want to do this?_

The memory of his mother lying on the ground, cold and unfeeling, body littered with drops of scarlet that pooled around her heart came to the forefront of his mind, and he was harshly reminded by his conscience of how those people who'd unfairly lost a loved one felt in the world.

 _Was there ever really a choice?_

* * *

" _Hey Barry, guess what!"_ Cisco's voice trailed over the phone in excitement as Barry tediously prepared for a math test that was fast approaching.

"You finally got a girlfriend?" he asked rhetorically, twirling a pencil in his hands.

" _Ha, ha, you freaking jerk. I wish. No, it's… well, you know Harrison Wells?"_

"'Course I do. Genius, futurist, humanitarian, director of S.T.A.R. Labs…"

" _Yeah well, get this, he's offering_ internships. _FOUR internships, to help him out while he's focused on designing the particle accelerator!"_

Barry put down his pencil for a moment to direct his attention to the phone. "Wait, you mean that one of the greatest revolutionary minds in western hemisphere is offering the chance to help in one of the biggest scientific advancements of the _decade?_ As in, four _teenagers?_ Did I hear you correctly?"

" _I know right? It's awesome, and he's looking for potential recruits in our school, too! Well, ours and another, actually, but still! Do you know how big of a deal this is?"_

" _Of course I know,_ Cisco! Where do I sign up?"

" _Applications can be submitted via a teacher's recommendation, something we've already got in the bag. Even if Ms. Lee is a total jerk, she can't give anything less than a fair assessment or it'll make the school look bad! And even if she doesn't, we can get recommendations from our Chem and Bio teachers. But anyway, after we each obtain a teacher's recommendation, then we'll have to submit some previous practical work, possibly like a ranking in a science fair, and we'll be in the running! Caitlin and I are already entering. You in?"_

"Cisco, the fact that you even need to _ask_ that worries me greatly."

* * *

"Is everything alright, Master Bruce?" an elderly British man asked his employer, a tall, well built, dark man who currently sat in front of a giant computer screen a mile beneath the earth, brooding though with obvious intrigue shining in his eyes.

"…Tell me, Alfred, what do you see here?" the man asked, playing a video clearly taken by a street camera of a burning building in Missouri.

"…I'd like to say an arson or terrorist attack, but something tells me this isn't all there is to it."

"You'd be correct," Bruce spoke, and not a moment later, a 13 year old girl appeared, covered in ash, soot and slight burns, in a gust of wind.

"My word!" Alfred exclaimed in surprise.

"This was taken two hours ago, in Central City."

"Rather far, isn't it sir? I do hope that you are not planning to take your crusade that far across the country. You are only a man, after all."

"No Alfred. It's just an algorithm I wrote to alert me to any strange activities going on outside of Gotham- I want to know about anything that even has the potential to threaten my city."

"So, what exactly was that, anyway?"

"Look closely," Bruce said, replaying the video, frame by frame, before freezing it on a single image.

A single, red blur could be seen running into the building.

"I still haven't the faintest idea for what it might be, Master Bruce. Would you care to enlighten me?"

Bruce turned his chair to face his butler. "That's the problem, Alfred. I don't either."

* * *

 **A/N: Well, that was hard to write. Damn you writer's block, why must you always come at the most inconvenient times!?**

 **Sooo… January! How's the New Year, so far?**

 **Oh, I have some bad news, regarding the story. So, you know how earlier on, I had written like, 5 chapters before I published my first 1? Well, it turns out that wasn't quite enough. For some reason, my inspiration does NOT want to coincide with, you know, the time I actually have to write. I ended up passing over HALF the winter holidays with SEVERE writer's block, and now I'm running behind. Very behind. As in, by the time I'm writing this (3rd January), this is the only chapter I haven't published yet. Ha ha ha… heh… yeah.**

 **The point- I** _ **may**_ **end up taking a short break, towards the end of January-end February since I'm running low on spare chapters, and you know, real life sucks- exams, tests, projects and all jazz are coming up, and I don't have much free time. This** _ **MIGHT**_ **be a false alarm, but I may end up not updating for a month or two, if I find that I have trouble keeping up. If I'm lucky, I'll find a weekend when I can just binge-write three or more chapters and I'll be set, but you've been warned!**

 **If you'd like to help my muse, though, the only advice I have to offer you is this: REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! Every time I see a review, I feel the need to write, even if my muse doesn't always work with me on it. Just tell me what you think of the chapter, what you liked and didn't, and if you have any suggestions or questions, jot those down too! It helps more than you'd imagine!**

 **On a brighter note; it's time for the QOTC!**

 **Firstly, congratulations to Superheros17! You're really good at this! This is your second correct answer so far! Congratz dude!**

 **And now to today's question!**

 **In the comics, Hunter Zolomon is a supervillian, and the second incarnation of the reverse Flash (or third, if you count Jay's 1-time appearance of The Rival). His powers, however, differ from a normal speedsters. Why is this?**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**


	7. Chapter 7- Welcome to STAR Labs

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life's just gotten a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry. Slow Burn.

 **Beta Reader: Currently, none**

 **Created: 26/12/16**

 **Modified: 27/12/16, 30/12/16, 27/02/17, 06/03/17, 10/03/17, 11/03/17**

 **Total word count: 3029**

 **Published: 11/03/17**

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 7- Welcome to S.T.A.R. Labs**

 **By SilentEevee**

* * *

" _Barry, where are you? You're gonna be late!"_

A deafening barrage of gunfire rippled throughout the alleyway as a group of drug dealers randomly fired their ammunition.

" _And what was that?! Is that a firecracker? I thought you and Cisco promised you wouldn't use them for pranks anymore!"_

A series of yelps followed another round, before an eerie silence settled over the alley, followed only by a dull _thump_ as three bodies hit the cold pavement below them, unconscious.

" _Barry! Answer me!"_ Caitlin's distorted voice echoed through the phone, bleeding urgency and annoyance.

"Oh, yeah, sorry Cait!" Barry, finally picking his phone up from where he'd stashed it, answered sheepishly.

" _What was that? Seriously, it's like there's a miniature war going on there!"_

Barry scrambled to think of an excuse, knowing very well that he couldn't tell her that he was still trying to learn how to juggle a secret identity. "Uhh… Video games. Yeah, I got caught up playing Grand Theft Auto. I just got this really cool fireworks mod that-"

"Video games?!" Caitlin berated him. " _How irresponsible can you be, Barry Allen, today of all days? Do you_ want _to give a bad impression on the_ first day _of our internship?"_

"But that's not for another hour!"

" _Yes, and it's an hour long drive! Cisco and I are already waiting for you at my place- remember? My mum's driving us!"_

 _Shit! I was just gonna run there,_ Barry thought to himself. "Uhh… my bad?" he offered weakly, already speeding off to his house.

"… _I understood literally none of that. Speak slower."_

Barry, brushing off a moment of confusion, repeated himself.

" _Please tell me you're at_ least _dressed! My mum already hates you, and this isn't exactly endearing behaviour. Actually, I think_ I _kind of hate you right now, too._ "

"I'm not _that_ irresponsible!" Barry protested into his phone, wincing as he scrambled to find something to wear. "Of course I'm ready! Look, I'm on my way, right now. Just need to grab my jacket."

Putting down his phone, Barry quickly sped into a change of clothes and made himself presentable.

" _Be here in five minutes or we're leaving without you."_

"… Actually, you can go on ahead without me- I think I know a shortcut. I'm closer to the west side of town than you are, anyway. I might even get there sooner."

" _Fine, just don't be late. Cisco says he'll kill you if you get fired on your first day."_

"Have a bit of faith- I'm not _that_ bad at time keeping!"

" _If that were true, we wouldn't be having this conversation."_

* * *

The trio entered S.T.A.R. Labs, practically bouncing off the walls in their excitement. Even Caitlin, who was only there to have a good standing for when she would inevitably be looking for a job as a biochemist, was mesmerized with the very idea of working there.

"Right," Cisco began. "If I ever get the choice, I'm definitely taking the blue pill."

Caitlin looked at him questioningly. "Blue pill?"

" _The Matrix."_

"Ah."

"I highly doubt anything that could think up would be anywhere _near_ as cool as this! I swear, if I didn't know any better, I'd say I'd died and gone to geek heaven!" Barry proclaimed. _"_ They have a _sustainable fusion reactor_ in here! Like, actual _nuclear fusion_!"

"I see you know a thing or two about the latest scientific breakthroughs," a voice behind them announced. "That's good; it means that you'll fit in better around here."

The trio froze, and almost in slow motion, they turned around and came face to face with one of the greatest minds in the western hemisphere, the bespectacled Dr. Harrison Wells, standing tall and proud in smart casual clothing, who gestured for them to follow him as he walked to his lab.

"You're Dr. Harrison Wells!" Caitlin blurted out before she could stop herself, only to turn bright red from embarrassment moments after the words left her mouth.

"I am, and I assume that you must be the new interns?" He asked. "Mr. Ramon, Ms. Snow, and Mr. Allen, I believe?"

They all nodded simultaneously.

"Well then, allow me to personally welcome you to S.T.A.R. Labs. Have you had the chance to meet your co-worker yet?"

"No, sir," Cisco explained. "We haven't met them yet- the only reason _we_ knew each other because of our classes."

"Ah, well, I'm sure you'd like to get yourselves acquainted then. He actually arrived about ten minutes before you did- he's waiting for us in my main lab."

Curiosity growing, the trio followed their new boss. A pair of heavy-duty, metal sound-proof doors slid open as Dr. Wells placed his key card in the lock. Inside the room was a Caucasian teenager, around the same age they were, with brown hair and a bespectacled face. He didn't even seem to notice them as he tinkered away on his tablet, trying to make sense of what, from a distance, looked to be some sort of blueprint.

It was only when Dr. Wells drew his attention that he finally looked up, appearing eager and ready-to-please.

"Dr. Wells, I have to say the schematics you're working on are positively brilliant- if my estimation is correct, I believe you could launch the particles at speeds exceeding Mach 20?"

"Mach 22, actually, Hartley." Hartley seemed a bit put out and frustrated at his inaccuracy. "But the schematics themselves aren't what we're going to be discussing in today's orientation. Hartley, I'd like you to meet your new co-workers."

Cisco stepped forward. "So Hartley, huh? Cool name. I'm Cisco Ramon, this freakishly tall kid behind me goes by Barry Allen, and the future bio-engineer over there is Caitlin Snow. Hey, haven't I seen you somewhere before?"

Cisco offered a smile, but Hartley offered none in return. Instead he just looked in disdain at Cisco's Star Wars t-shirt. "I'd be surprised if you hadn't. My parents are well-known, so to speak."

"Mr. Rathaway, please do try to behave. Despite first appearances, Mr. Ramon is truly a promising student- I wouldn't be surprised to find him working here, in the future, should he stay on his current path."

Dr. Wells's words didn't seem to do Cisco any favours. Rathaway's frown twitched into a scowl. Barry could already tell; working with this kid sure wasn't going to be a walk in the park.

* * *

"This day is turning out to be a _nightmare_ ," Cisco whined as he and Barry hung out at the breakroom while Dr. Wells went to confer his ideas with one of the older scientists.

"Preach, dude."

"I mean, is he always going to act like that? Seriously- I don't know how I'm going to tolerate him. He's just so… full of it!"

Barry shrugged. "Hey we'll get by. If we can get through years of school with _Tony…_ and besides, Hartley can't be _that bad_ \- I'm sure he'll ease up after a few weeks."

"I still don't see what the big deal is. So I wore a Star Wars t-shirt. It's not like anyone else here is wearing suits, or whatever. You think he's just a Star Wars hater?"

"That, or we just happen to have a co-worker who speaks six languages and can act like a dick in each and every one of them."

"Honestly, if he doesn't lay off soon I think I might just come in here one day with the loudest, flashiest T-shirt I have and play a bunch of loud music whenever he enters the breakroom. Think he'll appreciate a bit of AC/DC?"

"I think-" Barry began as a pale man with a shaved head wearing a lab coat a size too large accidentally bumped into him as he entered the room, dropping his briefcase in the process.

"Sorry," the man grunted, looking at the exits warily as Barry picked up the man's briefcase.

"Don't mention it, dude. You dropped this, by the way."

"Thank you," he nodded, and turned to leave the room, before pausing. "Do you two work here?"

Cisco beamed proudly, flashing his card key. "Yeah, we do actually. We're the new interns- well, half of them anyway. I'm Cisco, this is my friend Barry."

"That's great. I'm, uh, new, here, too. I'd been given a floor plan, but apparently there's been some renovations lately and it's a bit out of date," he said, voice tinged with annoyance and hints of anger. "Think you could point me to… Mechanics Lab 15?"

"You're a mechanical engineer?" Cisco asked, to which the man, without hesitation, nodded. "Cool! Ya' know, I'm thinking of becoming one myself when I'm older- either that or an experimental physicist- still undecided. What's it like? Are you one of the guys working on the quantum computer, or silicon crystals, or are you part of the branch dedicated to creating photonic chips? Really excited for those, by the way."

"I'm actually… part of the group that's been working on remaking and improving upon some of the prototypes that were stolen here a while back- the heat and cold guns.""

"Awesome! You're one of the guys who managed to reach absolute zero! Are you Dr. Frent or Dr. Mahkent? No, wait. You said you're new. Who are you then? I'd love to say I spoke to you after your group makes the next advancement in thermal physics! Why are you covered in dust, though?"

"I'm… Michael Scofield, Doctor, that is," he added as an after statement, looking more and more uncomfortable as time dragged on. "Look, I'm running late, do you know the way or not?"

"Uhh, hold on one moment," Barry said as he pulled out his map. "Uh, here. You need to go… three? No, four floors up, then take 2 lefts from the main elevator, and take the third door on the middle lab block."

"Thanks, kid," Michael acknowledged, before walking off perhaps a tad too hastily.

* * *

"Temporary reassignment?" Cisco echoed, as all of new interns gathered around their employer.

"Indeed," Dr. Wells, confirmed, continuing on without a moment's pause. "I hold myself as a good judge of character- most of the people I employ do turn out to contribute a large amount to the scientific community, even if they exhibit certain traits that would make other employers hesitate. From my interactions with you, I believe I can assign each of you a temporary 'guide', if you will, more suited to your individual fields of study and preferences. For example, just by looking at you, Ms. Snow, I believe that you'd be suited for… biochemistry- preferably something to do with cryogenics?"

Caitlin's eyes widened and a smile lit up her face in excitement. "That's… exactly right. I want to become a biochemist in the future, and cryogenics always fascinated me- I'd originally been planning to see if I could improve upon current cancer treatments through the use of such practices."

"I do my research, Ms. Snow. I've previously stated this to my other employees on their first day here- I'd like my workers to be as comfortable and efficient as possible, working in environments they can thrive in."

Hartley frowned. "But… I thought this internship was going to be directly under you? It's the main reason I chose to work here- I passed up an internship at Lexcorp because of it!" he snapped, with a tinge of betrayal in his voice

"It will be, Hartley," Dr. Wells confirmed, in an attempt to pacify him. "Remember this is only temporary. You'll each be given two weeks under leading scientists, in order to properly gauge your current skill and give you an idea on how working here in the future may be. After that, you can resume working on your current projects."

"Oh…" Hartley fell silent, contemplative.

"So… we're going to be working individually, then?" Barry asked, not very deterred from the changes.

"Most of you will. I have your assigned mentors right here," Dr. Wells announced as he pointed to a thin stack of files. "Ms. Snow, you will be working directly under Dr. Louise Lincoln."

Caitlin tried to recall where she'd heard of her before. "Isn't she the one working on that… Sustaining Thermonuclear Ultra-conductor? S.T.U.?"

"Actually, it stands for Sustaining Thermodynamic Ultra-conductor Engine, a project dedicated to attempting to subvert the second law of thermodynamics in order to create perpetual motion. **(1)** "

"That sounds… rather interesting, actually. Huh. Maybe if all goes well and biochemistry isn't for me I'll consider looking further into it…"

Dr. Wells smirked- slightly, enough to be barely noticeable if one didn't know what to look for- and his eyes lit up in glee. He continued, undeterred, as the others looked on in anticipation. "Mr. Allen," he began, and Barry instantly snapped to attention.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm putting you directly under Dr. Darwin Elias **(2)**. He's currently undergoing research- theoretical, mostly- about the effects objects moving at high velocity might have on the surrounding environments, due to our recent work in the particle accelerator. I think you'll be very interested in that, don't you agree, Mr. Allen?"

Barry felt very uncomfortable at that moment. _'Does he… does he know what's going on with me?'_ he mused in panic as he considered the implications. "I- uh… I think that's a great idea, sir!" He stammered with false enthusiasm.

"Excellent. Mr. Ramon?"

"Dr. Wells?" Cisco asked in anticipation, eager to find his new placing.

"I'm going to be placing you under Dr. Philippa Sontag **(3)** , currently our resident expert in quantum theory, specializing in quantum tunnelling. At the moment, however, she is currently studying the effects of oscillations of particles and seismic activities."

"So… vibrational wave stuff, then? Sounds cool- count me in!"

"And I?" Hartley asked. "Who shall I be placed under?"

"Hartley, I'm going to place you under her as well."

Cisco doubled over in a sudden coughing fit, and Hartley just looked incredulous as he passed a look of disdain towards his overdramatic co-worker. "Sir...? Not that I don't trust your judgement but… _why?"_

"You two are more similar than you may think, Mr. Rathaway-" more coughing from Cisco. "Besides, you two clearly need to learn how to co-operate- with each other, mostly, though you could work on your inter-personal skills in general. It's a very interesting field with a variety of applications, and I believe you'd both do well in it. Unless, you disagree?"

"Not at all, sir."

"Mr. Ramon? If you're done with the melodrama?"

Cisco stopped coughing. "Uh… sure. Not saying I'll like it, but I'll deal."

"Very good, then. I expect you both to start in your temporary positions next week. Apart from that, I expect a report detailing what you've learned in your experience, what you think about the position, and a summary of your opinion on the work and potential real-world applications you could brainstorm, or even what you would improve upon. In the meantime, I believe we have work to do on our biggest project to date?"

Despite himself, Hartley cracked a smile.

"Now, as you probably know, the particle accelerator is going to be set up in a circular circuit, with the outermost ring having a circumference of over 45 kilometers… what's that crackling sound?"

Suddenly aware to the barely-audible cacophony, Barry warily tried to trace the source by hearing alone. He, and his co-workers, had only just barely discovered the direction it originated from- towards the door, in the hallway- when it suddenly ceased, as quickly as it started. Caitlin opened her mouth to speak, when suddenly the door shot backwards at an alarmingly high velocity, flying completely out of the doorway and towards him and Caitlin with a deafening _BANG!_ Thinking quickly, Barry got up from his chair and threw himself towards Caitlin, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and throwing her and himself towards the ground, hitting it slightly harder than was strictly necessary. He winced as his soon-to-be bruised chin, but he didn't regret his decision one iota as he heard the door hit the other side of the wall with an echoing _DING_ , much like a metallic bell, before it fell to the floor.

"What on earth is going on here?!" Dr. Wells demanded in anger, quickly recovering from the event, faster than Barry, even, which was saying something. His voice overpowered the near-simultaneous demand of "What the _hell?!"_ from both Cisco and Hartley.

"You are a remarkably difficult man to get a hold of, Dr. Wells," drawled out a unsympathetic, vaguely familiar voice. Barry looked up from the position he was in on the ground as Caitlin groaned, finally registering the event. His eyes widened as he saw the man he'd met earlier on, Dr. Michael, wearing an overly-thick winter coat and visor, holding a futuristic handheld gun-like weapon pointed directly at Dr. Wells.

"What do you want?" Dr. Wells demanded, his voice as hard as steel, as his hand slowly pressed against an emergency button hidden underneath his desk.

"I think it's time we talked, about some of your recent projects," the man whose real name was probably not Dr. Michael replied with a grin. "More specifically, well, I'm sure you recognise the model I'm holding? Your scientists have been working on it for a while- such an achievement, too! Not that I care much about that."

"The cryogun," Cisco realised, as he audibly swallowed. "The first successful attempt at reaching absolute zero."

"Cryogun? Is that what they call it? I just call it the cold gun- rolls off the tongue a bit better than your latin-scientific jargon. But that's not the point. As of right now, consider yourselves hostages- no, Doctor, your private army of security goons aren't coming- they're currently experiencing life as a set of popsicles. My team, though a bit trigger happy, is remarkably capable at detaining unwanted help."

"Your team? Who the hell even are you?" Barry demanded as he rose from the floor. "Clearly, you're not Dr. Michael, if there ever was one."

"You got guts, kid. Respectable, but that won't stop me from putting you on ice if you stir up too much trouble, remember that, for your sake. But to answer your question… you can call me Snart."

* * *

 **A/N: I LIIIIIIIIIVVEEEEEEEEE!**

 **Woo! It's great to be back! 2+ months of nothing but studying is so** _ **depressing!**_ **On a brighter note, I went well in my exams, with a statistical average of 79%! Not bad, if I say so myself.**

 **Sorry it took so long- this chapter is a little rushed, too. I was just** _ **so eager**_ **to get this one out and move the story along, you have** _ **no idea!**_ **I hope you've all fairly enjoyed it, and if you didn't, just know that future ones will have better quality, and plotline.**

 **Anyway, time for a bit of trivia:**

 **First, Michael Scofield- one of Snart's previous roles in previous media, which just so happens to be about prison breaks. Hence why I chose it as an alias, despite it having nothing to do with either identities. I would have put a number next to it, but I didn't want to point out something fishy going on more than I already gave away. Also, reason why Snart's in so early will also be explained in the later chapter. Oh, and** _ **woo! Captain Cold in in the building!**_

 **Dr. Lincoln- the person Caitlin worked under in the comics when she first got her powers. It's a nice read, I've personally enjoyed it, and thus I've placed her in my story.**

 **Dr. Darwin Elias- The Flash, New 52; helped Barry to figure out the secrets of his speed before they parted ways for reasons that I shall not spoil. A little Easter egg for you to enjoy. That I felt like pointing out. Deal with it.**

 **Dr. Philippa Sontag. Not a real doctor. Probably has nothing to** _ **do**_ **with doctoring. Not even a DC character- #marvelsupervillain that I know nothing about. Probably won't do much, just a name drop for Cisco and Hartley's role in S.T.A.R. Labs. Moving on…**

 **Rather exciting first day, I'd think…**

 **Now, to address some reviews. Firstly,** _ **thank you for all the reviews!**_ **Wow, that has to be** _ **double**_ **what I usually receive! Nice, guys. Very, very nice. Now, onto the queries:**

 _ **[Insert major character here] finding out about Barry's powers.**_

 **Yes. They all will, at some point. The better question to ask, is how** _ **soon. ;)**_

 _ **Will this be a crossover?**_

 **Yes and no, depending how you define it. There certainly** _ **will**_ **be other DC characters in this story, some of them with major roles in arcs, but they won't be the main focus of the story, not like Barry and Company**

 _ **Content and legalities.**_

 **HAHAHAHAHA! No, I do not own this, and I shall never own this unless I somehow make a billion dollars sometime in my lifetime, in which case I will do my utmost to purchase the rights and make it so that I am the ultimate authority on regulating the media to do with Flash, so that any medium that has to do with him is up-to-standard, in order to prevent a 'Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice' debacle. I thought it was obvious, so I don't state it on every chapter like most people do.**

 _ **Cisco and Caitlin having powers?**_

 **The answer, my dearest reviewer, is obviously *BLEEP! BLEEP! ERROR! YOU ARE NOT AUTHORIZED TO VIEW THE FOLLOWING MESSAGE, DUE TO SPOILERS! PLEASE TRY AGAIN IN THE FUTURE! BLEEP!***

 **QOTC! Woo! It's been a while! Don't worry though, I'm still keeping track!**

 **Last chapter's winner: Legion's Guardian! Congratulations! That was rather tricky, compared to some others, considering the TV show just depicts Zolomon as a regular speedster! Good job!**

 **Today's question:**

 **Who is the current Robin, and what is Batman to him, in terms of relation?**

 **This should be a fairly simple one.**

 **N.B: Now, although I'm finished with my exams, I do have other things that are taking quite a fair bit of my time up, so expect updates to be rather sluggish until I'm done. I have projects for my O-Levels coming up, and that's a real bother considering they're worth 15% of my grade, but what can you do? Either way, I've literally posted this mere hours after I've finished it, so I don't currently have any ready-made chapters for you to enjoy, so bear with me! I'm not going to be giving up on this story** _ **anytime soon**_ **\- I have far too many plans for that, and it's too well received. The best thing you can do right now, is** _ **review,**_ **as it really does help!**

 **That will be all.**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**


	8. Chapter 8- Rumour Mill

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life's just gotten a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry. Slow Burn.

 **Beta Reader: Currently, none**

 **Created: 11/03/17**

 **Modified: 11/03/17, 12/03/17, 13/03/17, 18/03/17, 19/03/17, 21/03/17, 24/03/17, 25/03/17, 01/04/17**

 **Total word count: 4593**

 **Published: 01/04/17**

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 8- Rumour Mill**

 **By SilentEevee**

* * *

He felt the ropes already cutting against his wrists growing tighter, something he hadn't even thought possible at the time, and he fought off a wince in favour of glaring at his captor, who didn't even think twice about it. Not that he blamed him; Barry wouldn't be very intimidated by himself, either. The only thing he had going for him was his tall stature, and that was sufficiently nullified when he was strapped to a chair. He supposed his speed was probably the reason the criminals who had heard rumours about him were even slightly startled. Sighing to himself, he decided to take the time to gather some Intel about 'Snart'- if that even was his real name; Barry wasn't very keen on trusting him at this point.

He was good, Barry decided as he tested his bindings. Not that he had much prior experience, but he was clearly not taking any chances, and the knots were professionally tied, and quickly done so, too- something clearly borne out of practice. He could probably get out of them himself; if he rubbed them against anything fast enough they'd soon catch flame, but he didn't want to chance his powers here, in case Snart realised that something was out of the ordinary. He didn't want to chance his friends getting hurt because he grew reckless, or arrogant.

" _How are you not freaking out right now?"_ Cisco hissed at him _sotto voce,_ panic layering his words as he kept his eyes trained to the floor.

Speaking of his friends…

Barry would have shrugged if he could've. He supposed that having a sense of control on the situation, even if he was the only one aware of it, had something to do with it. Not that he could explain that, though. So instead, he just responded with a whispered, "Probably a perk of the failed martial arts sessions Joe tried to have me trained in. Those lessons teach mental discipline, you know."

At that moment, Snart had finished tying up Dr. Wells, whom he apparently deemed dangerous or valuable enough to warrant not one, but _two_ sets of handcuffs, as opposed to the rope he used on the four minors in the room. Cisco fell silent, unwilling to draw attention to himself, and Snart wore a cool, satisfied smirk on his face, despite Dr. Wells and Barry simultaneously glaring him.

"Not that I don't admire your proficiency in the arts of knot-tying," Dr. Wells began with a sarcastic drawl, "but you still haven't begun to explain what exactly it is you want with us?" he prompted.

Snart raised an eyebrow. "'Us', Dr. Wells? I'm sorry to say, but your little entourage here just has an unfortunate case of bad luck; wrong place, wrong time, and all that. You're the one I need, at the moment. Now I want you to listen, and listen well; any of you tries anything, yes, even you four," he said, his eyes passing over all four interns before turning back to Dr. Wells, "and I will not hesitate to put one, or all, of those interns on ice. Is that understood?"

Dr. Wells grit his teeth, and nodded. A quick glance towards the other occupants of the room showed the same reluctant compliance.

Snart smiled. It was not a nice smile. "Good, then. Glad we have an understanding. Now, onto business. Perhaps you've heard of a little… rumour, passing through the streets of Central City?"

Everyone remained silent, before Caitlin, in an act of defiance, drawled out "Well, I've certainly heard a lot of rumours at my school; very interesting, really, learning all those things about yourself you never knew about. I, for one, hadn't known that I was secretly dating half the male faculty members, for example-"

"Cheeky," Snart commented, snorting slightly. "Well, I suppose I should've been more specific. In my case, I'm talking about this new mysterious vigilante character that's popped up in Central City lately."

"Vigilante?" Dr. Wells asked, baffled. "I'm afraid I've yet to hear about such news. Nor, I'm afraid, do I see what this could possibly have anything to do with anyone at S.T.A.R. Labs. Unless, that is, you believe someone under my employment is secretly a master of the martial arts and running around at all hours of the night dressed in a leather suit."

Barry looked down, praying to any deity that would listen that no one would notice how hot his face felt at that moment. It wasn't a leather suit, not really. Honestly, he'd thought of some designs, but his current uniform consisted of a pair of tracksuit pants, a red hoodie, and a small domino mask he'd ripped off of one of his old Halloween costumes. Regardless, it was still embarrassing, especially with the way Wells had said it.

Luckily, Barry was seated out of Snart's line of vision, and everyone's focus was too trained on Snart to notice him.

"Of course not," Snart scoffed. "These people don't look like they could fight their way out of a plastic bag, let alone prowl around the streets in the middle of the night."

"Then what are you suggesting, Snart? If that even is your name."

"It is," he pressed, annoyed. "And I'm not _suggesting_ anything, Doctor. I want your help; this vigilante… he isn't like the others, not like the ones staking a claim in Star City, of Gotham. He's… strange, to say the least. He's fast- _very fast_ , if the word on the street is to be trusted, and it usually is. Fast enough to take down a dozen criminals in seconds- so fast you can barely see him; just a flash of colour and a trail of golden lightning is all the proof that he was ever there."

"That's ridiculous," Hartley scoffed, while Caitlin and Cisco drew in a sharp intake of breath, eyes widening as they drew the connection to Barry's own story, recounted various times over the years.

"Ridiculous?" Snart queried, an eyebrow raised in interest.

"The fastest human being, to date, would be Usain Bolt, holding the world record at a remarkable 12.38 m/s, or 27.7 mph, if you prefer. What you're implying… the human eye can track objects moving up to 175 mph with saccadic movement. No human being could possibly move that fast. It's humanly impossible- friction and air resistance would light flammable objects, such as _clothing_ , on fire the minute it gets anywhere close to that speed! It's like high-velocity barbeque. Apart from that, we're assuming that it's only 175mph, but keep in mind that anything moving faster than 25G with sudden acceleration or deceleration will literally have their organs _liquefied_ when they slam into the skeleton at such high speeds. If such an organic being ever gained the power to run that fast, expect to see a trail of goo trailing out of them, originating from holes as tiny as the pores in their skin, because _that's the harsh truth of physics!_ This isn't a fucking comic book!"

Barry, knowing that he could potentially move _much_ faster than 25G, had the sudden urge to have an abrupt, full-body check-up, complete with X-rays and ultrasounds, at the hospital, under to care of that nice doctor who'd treated him during his coma days, and had treated his foster father until he was checked out just two weeks prior. Logically, he knew that no such effects were present on him, for some reason he had yet to properly figure out- though he _would,_ some day; he didn't consider himself a future scientist for nothing- but Hartley pointing out all the ways physics was giving him a free pass made him feel incredibly uneasy.

Snart rolled his eyes. "Regardless of what you may believe, this person- if it even _is_ human- has clearly found a way to overcome these limitations."

"- _Overcome-"_

"Hartley!" Dr. Wells warned, his tone of voice providing everything he needed to say. _Don't antagonise our captor, you foolish boy! Put your pride aside!_

Understanding his employer's words of wisdom, Hartley promptly shut up, though quite unhappy with the circumstances.

Undeterred, Snart decided they'd gone off on enough of a tangent. "Back to my point. A little over two weeks ago, an old partner of mine- you may know him as Heatwave, from the media- had a rather rough encounter, with this… well, my informants have taken to calling him a 'Speedster'."

"Your partner? As in, the person in possession of our portable flamethrower, originally intended for a military contract? The one you two stole from my laboratories? " Wells asked, a single eyebrow raised.

"Yes, _him._ He was found, unconscious, on the first floor of the apartment building, clearly having taken a beating, with several broken bones, ranting about a lightning bolt coming after him to finish him off."

"Are you _sure_ he wasn't just hallucinating? You know, intense pain can cause such effects, and any blow strong enough to knock someone unconscious can have powerful effects on one's memory, not to mention the possibility of heat stroke…" Caitlin trailed off, noticing the looks of her employer and her captor, and how eerie the similarities between them were. "I'm just saying…"

"And I suppose over three dozen other criminals happened to be hallucinating the exact same thing, then? At different times, in different locations, with bizarrely similar stories?" He snapped, and Caitlin stayed silent this time. "Thought so."

He turned back to Dr. Wells. "Now, I may not be the most educated person in the room, but I remember enough of middle school science to know that kinetic energy and cold are opposites. And I just so happen to have a… signature weapon, who specialises in the latter. You're a smart man, Doctor. Surely you see where this is going?"

* * *

"You cannot seriously be telling me you _believe_ this nut job's story, "Hartley exclaimed in incredulousness, looking up from his seat while Dr. Wells started working on some ice-based weapons.

Glancing at their captor, who was currently discussing tactics with some of his teammates, Dr. Wells' lips pressed themselves into a thin line. He felt it safe to speak freely. "I am currently reserving judgement- it isn't the first time what was once thought as scientific fact to be turned on its head. Apart from that, it's also beneficial for your long-term survival if I... _humoured_ the man."

Hartley rolled his eyes. "And what about you three? You're being awfully quiet. Something you'd like to share?"

"Oh, you know," Cisco began, his voice quivering. "Just trying to keep my head down and stop the _murderer with a super gun_ from having a reason to dislike me. For _obvious reasons._ Excuse me if I'm not very forthcoming with the quips, but I am having a _really_ bad day. This is like, a horror movie come to life. This place doesn't have, like, a basement, does it? You know what? Don't answer that. I don't want to know, either way."

"Will you two just _shut up?!"_ Caitlin snapped. "Bickering isn't going-"

A loud, high pitched ringing sound originating from a bench at the edge of the lab quickly drew everyone's attention, even that of Snart and his accomplices, completely cutting off Caitlin's words.

"Shit," Barry mumbled, fully understanding the implications of what was about to happen as Snart approached them.

"Alright, one of your friends or family members is clearly getting worried," Snart began, making a display of drawing out and fiddling with his cold gun in a display of intimidation. "So, just in case you have some very paranoid relations, we're going to answer it. Whose phone is it?"

"It's mine," Barry lied, speaking in Caitlin's very brief moment of hesitation. She shot him an inquisitive look that must have lasted less than a moment, but didn't do much else to dispute him.

Snart moved to bring the phone closer to the group. He examined it for a moment, noting the name on the caller ID, his face betraying no emotion "It seems your mother's getting worried," he told Barry, who was already trying to think of a way to phrase his emergency message without raising any alarms. "So, let me make this clear. You are going to answer it. You are going to say that everything is _fine_ , that you're doing well at S.T.A.R. Labs, and that you're busy and should get back to work. If you or _anyone_ tries anything, I guarantee you that it will suddenly become uncomfortably cold in here, and we wouldn't want that, would we?"

* * *

"Hello?" Carla Tannhauser asked over the phone, prying herself from her work to check in on Caitlin.

" _Hey, Mom!"_ came the voice of one of the boys her daughter hung out with, Barry Allen, she recalled. She frowned, metaphorical alarm bells ringing in her head.

"Barry, what-"

" _Hey, listen Mom, I really can't talk right now- I'm helping Dr. Wells with the particle accelerator, at the moment. You know; the one I was talking to you about back when I first told you I was applying?"_ He asked expectantly, his voice practically begging her to go along with the façade.

"Of course I remember, dear," she began, deciding to play along. "Are you having fun with your friends, over in the big sciency labs?" Dear God, she sounded like a pre-schooler. That boy had better catch on to what she was trying to convey.

" _Uh huh, it's a blast! Caitlin and Cisco and I are always working together here, too, which is also a plus, though our new co-worker, Hartley, is a bit of a buzz kill…"_ he trailed off, his voice gaining layers of panic towards the end. A clatter could be heard over the line as something metallic lightly hit a wooden object. Barry took a deep breath and cleared his throat. _"Anyway!"_ he declared with a lighter tone of voice. _"I should really be getting back to work, my boss is getting annoyed. Is there anything you needed?"_

"Yes, actually. Your friend Joe came looking for you earlier, saying something about a movie?" she lied, hoping to gauge the severity of the situation, whatever it may be.

" _Joe? Oh, right… I forgot to tell him that I couldn't come. Uh… I'm a bit busy, at the moment and can't step away. Could you do me a favour and give him a call for me? I wouldn't want him to worry. You have his number, right? From that time Caitlin and I went to hang out at his house?"_

"Yes, of course. Don't forget to call your father and I when you're done so you can tell us where to come to pick you up! Try not to take too long; we're making pie tonight."

"' _Kay then, thanks mum! Caitlin and Cisco said hey, by the way. Talk to you later! Bye!"_

The line went dead.

Letting loose a breath she didn't know she was holding, she quickly decided to try and make sense of the situation. Barry Allen pretended she was his mother, and seemed adamant in her contacting his foster-father, who happened to be a police detective. She correctly assumed that since he didn't tell her outright what was going on, and since he carried on a façade of pretending they were related (and wasn't that a horrific thought in itself…) she deduced that he was being held under guard. The metallic tap might have just as easily been the harsh reminder of a gun tapping against a wooden surface.

…Oh dear God, what had her daughter gotten herself into?

Quickly, she started dialling the number for emergency services, and then stopped abruptly. She was going to report a potential crime, occurring at her competitor's booming business, which she had little-to-no information on. Apart from that, there was also a miniscule possibility that it was a prank- not that she believed her daughter would be cold hearted enough to worry her in that way, but the emergency services didn't know her daughter the way she did.

Shaking her head, she decided to call Joe directly instead, and trust in his capabilities to convince his superior officer. Better yet, she'd call him while on her way to the precinct herself, to provide whatever information she could. Until then, she would have to trust in the capabilities of Central City's finest to help her daughter.

* * *

"…This isn't going to work."

"What the hell are you talking about, Allen?" Hartley hissed under his breath, determined not to make too much noise despite the fact that Snart had already gone to check on some other restless employees that had planned a miniature revolt on the higher floors.

"There's no way this isn't going to end with one of us in the hospital, or worse. Even when the cops get here-"

"Excuse me," Hartley interrupted, eyebrows raised. " _When?_ The cops will only know what went down here _after_ Snart lets us go- if he even does so. We've got no way of contacting them- we're on our own."

"We've already contacted them, Hartley. That wasn't my mother- it was Caitlin's. She's smart enough to realise that something's going on, and my foster father's a cop. He'll be the first person she calls. But that's not the point. When the cops get here, Snart's going to know something's up. We're going to need to get out of here before they come."

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock! I wasn't going to say anything, but that was a pretty dumb move," Cisco put his two cents in. "Please tell me you've got some sort of plan, at least? 'Cause if not, we're on a ticking clock unless he leaves before they arrive."

"…The basis of one, yeah."

"Care to share it, then, oh great hero?" Hartley drawled.

"We're going to need to turn the tables on Snart. The way I see it, we have two options; we either fight it out- we've presumably still got most of the staff here. He must have, what, five to twenty men, at most? We could easily overwhelm them with sheer numbers."

"I would completely agree with you, Mr. Allen, except for the fact that these men are trained gunmen," Dr. Wells began. "And while I can't say for certain, I would presume that, from the data gathered during previous health examinations, that most of my employees aren't exactly the peak of human fitness. Apart from that, I guarantee you that none of them have ever wielded firearms before, beyond perhaps paintball guns. They wouldn't have been hired if they had. The security guards are a possibility, though from the fact that Snart is still in the building I imagine that they are, optimistically, incapacitated."

"I was thinking along the same lines. I was just pointing out the options, really. That's why I'm leaning towards option two; we need to sneak out, or rather, one of us does. If we manage to get a person up to say… the vents? There's a bit of a draft over here- I think there's one above me. The vents are wide enough, aren't they, Dr. Wells?"

"The vents?" He asked, bemused. "Mr. Allen, this isn't a spy movie. The vents are too small for an employee to squeeze through, and even then the noise would surely draw our captors' attention."

"But what if it's not an adult?" Barry pressed on, and Eobard smirked internally at the boy's dedication. The determination his future doppelganger had was still present. It seemed some aspects of a character couldn't be wiped away by tragedy.

"Barry, are you _crazy?"_ Caitlin demanded, incredulous. "You cannot be serious- there's no way any of us are going up there!"

"C'mon Cait! You know just as well as I do that the minute Snart finds out what's going on, we're going to be put on ice, permanently. Frankly, this is safer than just waiting around! If I hide up there for a while, he'll be too focused on finding me to prevent me from 'raising the alarm'- which is already raised. He can't threaten me with you if he doesn't know where I am, and if you tell him that you don't know where I went, that I ran out of the room promising to bring help and couldn't talk me out of it, and that you didn't want to raise the alarm in fear that he'd hurt me if I was planning on rebelling, then he'll count you as useful. You'll be in the clear, he'll be distracted, and I'll be able to sabotage him from inside."

"There is _no way_ you're going out there, dude!" Cisco argued. "You're not bloody spider-man! We can't even keep Tony of our backs and you're thinking of going up against an _armed criminal army?_ Because that's what you call a group of armed men. An _army."_

"I have to agree with Ms. Snow and Mr. Ramon, Mr. Allen. Though your plan is quite plausible as the vents are indeed large enough, I can't condone sending a minor on such a task."

"I think you're all forgetting option 3," Hartley pointed out. "Dr. Wells? Maybe we could just speed up his request. He has a list of demands; if we comply, work as fast as possible, he could be gone before the police arrive. Plus, I would assume that the cops have enough experience with these sorts of situations to know that showing that someone's raised the alarm could cause more harm than good. They're going to try and plan this out, if they even believe Caitlin's mother in the first place."

"You cannot be serious," Barry asked, appalled. "You don't even know if he'll keep us alive after that; we've seen his face. It wouldn't take much to destroy the building, and everyone in it, with a few explosive charges. Besides, even if we get out of this alive, who knows how many people he'd hurt with those weapons?"

"Allen, I don't _care_. Yeah, I don't want him to hurt other people, especially with something S.T.A.R. Labs created, but my first priority is getting out of here _alive_. Besides, I think you're forgetting something; he's an armed _criminal_ with a gang. If he truly wants to hurt people, he doesn't need ice-grenades to do that; normal grenades would work just as well. The only reason he's here is to obtain weapons suitable for fighting an adversary that _does not exist_."

"And if he does?" Barry challenged. "I'm not saying I believe this psycho, but let's say somebody's managed to create some sort of drug or robot or machine that would allow such velocity and is using them to play vigilante, then what?" Is that what he considered himself now? A vigilante? God that sounded wrong, even in his head. He wasn't that bad… surely? "You're just giving him the tools to go after some random person who's trying to help, and if they ever _do_ meet, then you're going to create a lot of room for random civilians to get caught in the crossfire!" Civilians? Wow; he's starting to sound like Joe.

"Then the fault would lie on the vigilante, who should know the risks that come with vigilantism, and Snart," Hartley claimed.

"How could you-"

" _Enough,_ both of you." Dr. Wells commanded. "Arguing about this solves _nothing_. All it does is endanger us further, as need I remind you that Snart could enter the room at any moment? I'm going to settle this here and now; I am going to comply with this man's demands, and leave it to the cops to handle this, while providing whatever assistance I can. No one is going to _play hero_. Do you understand, Mr. Allen?"

Barry stared at Dr. Wells in incredulousness, betrayal shining in his eyes. "Sir-"

" _Mr. Allen,"_ He emphasised, and Barry sighed.

"Yes, sir," he amended.

"Good. Now if you don't mind, I am handling rather dangerous materials at the moment without the proper equipment. An accident with this high-pressured liquid helium*, for example," he began, nodding towards two rather large canisters, not dissimilar to the oxygen cans a scuba diver would use, "could potentially blow up half the lab, or freeze my limbs to the point where I may require amputation. So please, talk if you find it necessary, but cease this argument."

The quartet looked down and fell silent, fairly chastised, though Hartley and Barry continued to send one another glares when Dr. Wells wasn't watching.

* * *

A wave of biting cold air washed over the room as a grenade exploded against the far wall, encasing it in a layer of shining frost. All was silent for a single, brief moment when the tension and anxiety in the air was practically tangible, when all Caitlin could hear was the rhythmic thumping of her own pulse, before Snart smirked in satisfaction. All the hostages in the room let out a small gasp of relief.

"Not bad, Dr. Wells. Now I know why you're so respected around here."

"The prototype is satisfactory, then?" Dr. Wells queried.

"Sure, why not?"

"How much more do you require, before you'll consider letting us go?" Dr. Wells asked. "Though before you give a direct answer, I feel a fair reminder is due; the longer you keep us here, the sooner the police will figure out something is amiss, especially considering we have minors in the building."

"I'm aware of that," he snapped. "I need twelve, at the very least, and I'm going to need the plans for how to build more of them, too."

"That doesn't sound too unreasonable, given the circumstances. But if I may be so bold, what exactly do you plan on doing after I do deliver?" Dr. Wells queried, recalling the previous discussions.

"I don't see how my life is any of _your_ business."

"I don't intend it to be," Dr. Wells said dryly. "I suppose I should've been clearer. What guarantee do we have that after we deliver, you'll keep your word and leave quietly? Are we simply to trust the word of the man who's previously lied about his identity and taken us captive, forcing my cooperation under the threat of assault and murder?"

"Yes, you are. Because the way I see it, you can either finish the job and at least have a chance of leaving relatively unharmed, or I can shoot you right now and go see what Mercury Labs has to say about the matter."

Dr. Wells frowned. "Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?"

"Glad to see you're coming around," Snart commented, and was about to drop the matter, when a dull, metallic object crashed against the floor behind his line of sight. Out of sheer reflex, he unholstered his gun and shot to where the sound had originated from in one swift moment.

It appeared that he had shot what appeared to be a ventilation opening, which now happened to be completely encased in ice. On the ground underneath the small glacier was the metal casing that should have been covering the entry, appearing slightly bent out of shape as though someone had pried it off. And but a few feet away sat the chair with what appeared to be the slightly-smouldering remains of the ropes Snart had used to tie a hostage.

The realisation dawned on the captives all at once. Barry had destroyed his bindings and made it past Snart in his momentary distraction. Barry Allen had escaped. And Snart was pissed. Pissed enough not to notice Eobard's very small smirk.

* * *

 **A/N: Happy APRIL FOOLS! :D**

 **Man, I wish I was mean enough to provide a prank chapter on a day like today, but alas I am not that unkind. It would've been pretty funny, though!**

 **Anyway, I'm back with another chapter! Hope you've all enjoyed it! Sorry I haven't updated much- I'm running a week late, in fact. But I've had an award giving ceremony that took up a bunch of my time due to rehearsals and the actual ceremony, so my routine was busted. Still running behind on the chapters, too, so that's a bummer. But hey, spring break is coming up soon, so I should have more time to work on them! Maybe I'll actually manage to create some spares this time around!**

 **So, I mean, not that much actually happened this chapter- more of an exploration of motives and introduction of Barry's alter ego to his new co-workers (and old friends). Hope it was satisfying enough for you, though!**

 ***Notice I said liquid _helium_ , not nitrogen? Liquid helium is actually colder, and closer to absolute zero. I believe liquid helium _boils_ at 4.2 Kelvin, whereas absolute zero is 0 kelvin. Nitrogen can only exist as a liquid between the temperatures of 63K and 77.2K. So... yeah, liquid heliumliquid nitrogen. **

**Now enough rambling! Time for the reason you all actually bother to read the author's note- the QOTC!**

 **A lot of you guys got the right answer, and some went into great depth and should be congratulated for it (I'm looking at you, Izzie!), but only one of you guys guessed it first! Congratulations** **awesomeandcool!**

 **NOW, for this week's question; this should be an easy one for those who've watched Man of Steel (which doesn't do the hero justice, in my opinion) or read the New 52 or Superman: Birthright comics;**

 **Superman's logo is actually Kryptonian. It's the El family crest, but it also has a different meaning to kryptonians. What does it actually mean?**

 **Hope you guys have enjoyed the chapter!**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**


	9. Chapter 9- Frosty Foes

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life's just gotten a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry. Slow Burn.

 **Beta Reader: Currently, none**

 **Created: 20/04/17**

 **Modified: 20/04/17, 21/04/17, 22/04/17 , 23/04/17, 24/04/17, 26/04/17**

 **Total word count: 5791**

 **Published: 26/04/17**

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 9- Frosty Foes**

 **By SilentEevee**

* * *

Barry stumbled around the ventilation shafts trying to co-ordinate himself are relying on his terrible navigation skills to get him someplace at a far enough distance from Snart or his goons to let him sneak out of the shaft. Of course, this would've been easier if he had a map of the shafts. Or even knew what part of the building he was in. It was hard to deduce your position when all the corridors looked the same, but the fact that he hadn't gotten use to the layout yet and didn't know what most of the labs were for in the first place just made it all the more frustrating.

"Snart? What going on? You look pissed."

The voice filtered through from below, and Barry froze. It seemed to originate from around 20 feet away from his position, if one were to ignore the elevation, where a small metal opening could be seen. He dared not breathe, lest the group of criminals somehow hear.

"Good thing you can't kill with just your eyes or you would've melted a hole through the wall by now, or frozen it, in your case." Another voice called out.

"Shut it, Fred. This isn't the time for your puns- one of the brats escaped."

There was a beat of silence as the group below processed this information. Then-

"Shit."

"Yeah, _shit,"_ Snart mocked. "Kid must've had a lighter on him, because the ropes were charred. The bastard made it to the vents; he could be anywhere by now."

A small squeak nearly made Barry jump up, if not for the fact that such an action would've been impossible for such a crowded fact. Turning his head towards the origin of the sound, Barry was unpleasantly surprised to come face to face with a giant brown rodent which seemed to be staring at him with a beady-eyed curiosity. Barry resisted the urge to groan. Of all the times to come face to face with a possibly diseased rat, it had to be now. Carefully, he backed away from his position, moving behind a corner in attempt to escape the vermin. He winced as he moved just a tad too hastily, and ended up bumping against the walls of the shaft.

"Did you hear something?" one of the guys asked.

"I didn't hear nothing, Jake."

"Coulda sworn I heard something. Did you… Len? Why are you staring at the ceiling?"

"…There's a ventilation shaft that passes right above us."

 _Shit._

Barry heartbeat thumped in his ears as he heard the opening of the shaft being pried open from below. Risking a quick peak, he could see the rat still sitting there, content, staring curiously at where a man was trying to grip the edges of the vent, in his attempt to hoist himself up. He ducked his head back, and held his breath as he heard the dull _thump_ of someone trying to squeeze into the small space.

"I think I should go in the rest of the way, Len- I don't see anybody from over-"

The man abruptly cut himself off, and Barry's breath hitched as he wondered if he'd been caught. He didn't _think_ any part of his was visible, but he might have miscalculated. That would be bad; he was a sitting duck up here- there wasn't much room to dodge a bullet if he'd had a gun pulled on him, regardless of his superspeed.

Then he heard a squeak, no doubt originating from the damned rat. And then a high-pitched squeal as the criminal recoiled in surprise and disgust once he noticed the furry rodent. The sound of a dull _thud_ as something small hit the walls of the shaft after being slapped aside reached his ears.

And then all hell broke loose as the rodent charged forwards to attack what it perceived as its enemy. There was a yelp as the rat bit down on the man's hands, and a sudden crash as the man, who'd released his grip on the shaft on instinct, fell down the opening, and Barry finally deemed it safe to observe the scene playing out as the loud groan echoed up to the cramped space.

The rat, with its face slightly stained with blood, took one crazed look at him, bared it's teeth and darted back in the direction from which it'd come. Beneath him, he could hear the man screaming about the bite, about how he was probably infected with a dozen diseases that Barry was surprised the criminal even knew about, and Snart yelling at the melodramatic man to calm down and go get medical help, if he was so worried, because panicking wasn't going to do anything to help his situation.

Barry took the opportunity to sneak further into the vents and gain as much ground as he possibly could.

* * *

Barry winced as he hit the ground, his legs protesting under the force and collapsing him to his knees. Briefly, he made a mental note to learn how to properly jump down from high places, before climbing back up to his feet.

Glancing towards the nearest lab door- 'Biochemistry lab 12'- he soon ducked to the side and pulled out the map of the building he'd been given earlier during his orientation. Studying it for a brief moment, he soon put it away and turned to what he believed was the correct corridor.

Guards were surprisingly more frequent than he'd thought they'd be- there had to be at least five guarding the corridors of this floor alone. That could either mean that Snart decided that there were important or dangerous individuals that required constant guard on this floor, or that he'd had enough men with him to spread them out evenly across each floor of the building with that number.

Barry hoped it was the former.

Quietly, he sped behind one of the five guards in the room, the one closest to his position, kicked the back of her knees, and sent her tumbling to the floor before she could even blink. The woman grunted with surprise as she tried to pick herself up and face her assailant, whilst also scrambling for her sidearm. Reacting quickly as she clasped her gun, Barry snatched it from her grip and used it to knock her in the back of her head, sending her to the ground, unconscious.

Barry heard footsteps of the guards who'd heard the commotion approach him. Quickly, he raised his stolen gun, hoping he looked threatening enough to dissuade his attacker from shooting on sight, but soon realised how futile it would be as he was surrounded from all sides, each guard with a gun trained on him.

"Don't. Move," one of the guards growled as he glanced at his fallen comrade. "Put your hands up and give us the gun, or you'll end up with more holes in you than Swiss cheese."

"You'd shoot an innocent kid?" he asked weakly, trying to find a way out of his situation.

"Kid? You just took down Maria- and she was _armed_. I'd say that warrants the caution of the gun," another stated dryly.

"Point taken," Barry agreed with a sigh, raising his hands up in the air, while dropping the gun and kicking it to the other side of the room. It wasn't a big loss, however. He hadn't planned on using it, besides perhaps as a decoy deterrent. The guards relaxed their hold on their weapons, two of which even put them away all together.

"Good kid. Smart choice," the first guard stated, as he moved forward to restrain the speedster.

Barry waited silently until the man was in punching distance. He moved to restrain his hands, but Barry quickly brought them down against his ear, using just the tiniest amount of his super speed, sending him to the floor and sending his gun flying across the floor.

The guards stood in shock for a moment, glancing at their comrade who was trying to get back up on his feet, before the remaining man with a gun retargeted his weapon and fired.

The bullet shot forwards with a deafening _crack_ , and Barry's world slowed down as it approached him. He waited until what he hoped was a believable amount of time before he twisted his body a tiny amount, but enough for the bullet to whiz by, only nicking him slightly by the ear. He winced.

In his sped up perception, the guards seemed to take ages to notice that the headshot had missed and Barry was indeed still alive. He didn't give them any opportunity to recover, however, as he ran forward with what he perceived as human speed, or perhaps just a tad higher, and ducked behind the guard. He grabbed the man's forearm and twisted it back, like he'd seen spies do in numerous movies, until the man cried out in pain. Then he pushed him forward into another guard that had recovered enough to take out his gun to try to shoot, but not before pilfering the intercom that he could see sticking out of his coat pocket.

The last guard took one look at the kid that had just dodged a bullet and injured his still conscious friends and, in a supreme act of betrayal, took off running.

Barry soon followed suit, in the opposite direction, before any of the guards could recover from their not-unconscious states of shock. He saw his opportunity when he passed a bright red box near the corner of the corridor.

 _In case of emergency, break glass and push the button._

Grinning wickedly, Barry gladly did as the sign instructed. The tell-tale sound of a fire alarm echoed through the halls, but Barry didn't take the time to admire his handy-work. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he leapt up against the wall, pushed off of it and brought down the metallic girder that covered the rest of the shaft. He landed roughly on his legs again, but he ignored their protests as he quickly climbed back up and, making barely any effort to quiet his movements now that his presence was known.

* * *

"So let me see if I understand what you're saying," Captain Singh began, as Joe and Caitlin's mother, Carla, stood before him. "You mean to tell me that you think something fishy is going on at S.T.A.R. Labs, the _competitor_ company your daughter is interning at," he said, nodding at Carla.

"You don't believe me." Carla pointed out in irritation.

"It sounds a bit dubious to me, ma'am. Are you sure it's not-"

"Look, all I know is that I called to check up on my daughter, and _his foster son_ picked up the phone, pretended that I had some sort of relation to him, and basically silently begged me to play along. I did so, dropped a hint and asked if it was serious enough to get Detective West involved, and he basically said outright that I should call him. I didn't; I came here instead to tell him, and then you, face to face and to make sure you investigated it," she snapped. "Now, I don't care what legal matters you have going on; my daughter could be in mortal peril. You call yourselves public servants, so serve the public and _investigate it._ "

Captain Singh looked to Joe.

"Please, sir. You know Barry; he's a good kid. He knows not to raise these sorts of alarms if it's not serious."

The police captain sighed. "I'm sticking my neck out for you two- I can send a few men there to check, forgoing the search warrant entirely this time. If you're telling the truth, then the warrant won't be necessary anyway. But if this is a joke-"

"It's not, sir. I'm confident in it."

"Fine, then. I can't put you on the squad, however, Detective. Conflict of interest and all."

"I understand. Just please, have somebody go over there and investigate."

Singh nodded and then called out to one of the other officers on duty.

"Sir?" asked one Officer Darryl. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Send a squad to S.T.A.R. Labs to investigate a possible crime- something along the lines of a hostage situation, if I'm not mistaken."

Darryl raised an eyebrow. "Sir, a squad was already sent there a few minutes ago."

" _What?"_ Carla and Joe asked in unison. Captain Singh's eyes widened.

"Explain," he said, and Darryl did so.

"Someone pulled the fire alarm, so we sent a group to investigate. They should arrive there in about fifteen minutes."

Snart's eyes narrowed as the annoying shrill of the fire alarm went off. Pulling out his intercom, he contacted his associates while keeping his eyes trained on the rest of the group he was watching over. He wasn't about to let another one give him the slip- he _wasn't._

* * *

"Report, men. The kid pulled the alarm- I want to know _exactly_ how incompetent you are to let him get away with that."

" _Sir, we ran into the kid on the third floor corridor."_

Snart's annoyance faded slightly. "Great job- lock him in the room and I'll be there as soon as I can manage."

" _Uhh… actually, Snart… the kid may have gotten away."_

Snart froze for a brief moment as he considered his colleague's words, his face betraying no emotion. His words were deathly cool when he next spoke. "You mean to tell me that you let a _teenager_ take you on and live to tell about it."

" _Yeah well… the kid knew some sort of martial arts, or whatever! It's not our fault- we thought we were just going to be rounding up a bunch of nerds and stealing some tech! The kid actually snuck up on and took down Maria! As in, he knocked her out! When she was_ armed! _Who does that! I mean, what kind of kid has the balls to take on an armed criminal?"_

"Apparently," Snart spoke dryly, "this one does."

"… _I blame the spy movies."_

Rolling his eyes, Snart barked out his next orders. "Irrelevant. We have, at this point, exactly fourteen minutes and forty one seconds until the police get here. Finish your jobs, _quickly_ , and meet up at the ground floor. If I'm not there in twelve minutes, I want you to leave without me. If anyone gets caught or left behind, it's every man or woman for themselves, and you _better_ not squeal. And if you see the damned kid, do us all a favour and _shoot him._ "

* * *

"… _if you see the damned kid, do us all a favour and_ _ **shoot him**_ _."_

Barry grinned from his position in the vents as the words filtered through. Not because of the fact armed men were after him, of course, though it did send a small thrill of adrenaline through his veins. No, he was happy because he finally had the excuse he needed to justify his alter ego's presence at the building- the fire alarm. And if that wasn't enough, he didn't need to waste his time tracking down the individual members of Snart's gang; they were all going to be concentrating in one area.

He waited a good three minutes in his position until he heard the urgent sounds of footsteps running below him. After the coast was clear, he leapt down from the vents and rushed down the service stairs, and out the building.

It didn't take long for him to change into his uniform, which was at this point a simple red hoodie with a small domino mask he'd ripped off an old Halloween costume, a pair of red gloves to prevent him from leaving fingerprints and a pair of tracksuit pants to go along with it. He vaguely mused about having to upgrade his attire, now that he was apparently becoming more well-known to the citizens of central city.

But that wasn't important at the moment. What was important was getting back into S.T.A.R. Labs. Which he did do. Easily.

The look of pure shock and astonishment the gang wore as he streaked in was comical.

"Hello there!" he beamed cheerfully with a small wave, just to mess with them.

" _He's real?!"_ the one who'd shot him earlier squeaked. "I thought Snart was off his nut!"

"Oh my god, he's a _kid._ Heatwave got beat up by a _kid_. He's never gonna live this down."

"Who cares, just _shoot him!"_

And shoot they did. Once more, Barry's perception slowed down to accommodate the bullets speeding ever closer to his face until they seemed to barely move at all. Barry shook his head and walked- in his perception, at least- to the other side of the room. As he stopped, he turned to look at the thugs and clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"Okay, I was just here to check on a fire," he fibbed as he waited for the thugs to notice his new position. "But _clearly_ something bigger is going on here. Hope you don't mind if I investigate a bit."

Barry started forwards and within moments they were on the ground, either unconscious with their own guns planted firmly on them for the cops to find, or tied up with some rope he'd picked up on his way back to S.T.A.R. Labs.

* * *

"Barry!"

Cisco flinched as he heard the gunfire erupt from beneath the floor. His mind instantly feared the worst of his very brave, very stupid friend. Already, he could picture Barry having an outcome similar to the fates of those killed off in horror movies.

The thought of his friend ending up that way made him feel ill. Every moment he spent dwelling on the thought seemed to make it more horrific.

Snart seemed to smirk slightly as he heard the gunfire, obviously arriving to the same conclusion as he did. Taking out his horribly primitive walkie-talkie, in Cisco's opinion at least, he called out to his army.

"What's the status on the kid?" he called out. Static was his answer. "Men?" he asked again, slightly more uncertain and getting agitated. "Men! Respond!" he barked.

No answer came, and the silence was practically music to Cisco's ears. It meant that Barry had, at the very least, a miniscule chance of having survived the encounter. It wasn't a very big chance, but it was more reassuring than the absolute certainty of his demise that would have reached his ears had he actually been taken out.

Snart growled in frustration as he threw the intercom to the ground. In one swift movement, the exit was quickly encased in ice, and a chill descended upon the room. Cisco shivered as he gasped in the icy air that felt like pins and needles against his lungs.

Whether or not that was due to frustration or in part of a larger plan, Cisco was unsure of, but he didn't have much time to ponder over it. Snart soon turned his attention onto them.

"I hope you realise that the only reason I haven't killed any of you so far is that I don't like punishing those who haven't done anything to annoy me themselves. That said, try anything like your little friend did here, I guarantee you your fate will be must frostier."

Dr. Wells sighed. "Mr. Snart, how much longer are you planning on keeping us here? Are you going to hold us hostage? Or are you planning on cutting your losses and leaving before the police arrive?"

"Keep working," Snart barked. Once he'd seen Dr. Wells put his mind back on his work, he deemed it fit to answer his question. "I'm not leaving until it's either absolutely necessary, or I get my due. There's not much chance of the former happening; I rather like my odds against the pitiful police force this city has, so I suggest you hurry up."

Hartley rolled his eyes. ' _Keep working'_ , he mouthed in disbelief and mockery.

"Problem?" asked Snart, noticing Hartley's actions.

"Yeah. A shootout's going on and we don't know what the hell is happening, excuse my French," he commented dryly.

"You say that as… though…" Snart trailed of as a distinct metallic groaning sound echoed through the room. Everyone's attention was drawn to the frozen doors where the sound seemed to be emitting from.

Cisco looked to Caitlin in panic. Someone was trying to enter the room. Snart pulled his gun out and aimed it at where the door was rattling, grasping it tightly.

The door continued for another moment, and then it stopped.

Footsteps; careful, deliberate ones could be heard slowly backing away from the door, gaining distance. And then a sudden popping sound that signified the sudden displacement of air and-

 _BANG! CRASH! FA-THUD!_

The door shattered like glass, shards of metal being blown away, some even as far as the other side of the room. A girlish screech erupted from… Cisco… and by pure reflex Snart fired his icy blast at the red lump that'd fallen to the floor, groaning, after ramming into the door too fast.

Movement; something moved fast, too fast for Cisco's eyes to track, and with a sudden wind the red thing was gone. The ice hit the wall harmlessly, parts of it crumbling down onto the floor beneath it.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were aiming at me."

The voice, it sounded familiar as it bantered. He'd heard it before- if he listened closely he could almost place it, but something about it seemed… off. Foreign.

" _Holy crap!"_ Hartley yelled. Caitlin stared, wide-eyed. Cisco felt his jaw drop. Dr. Wells looked… it was hard to tell, actually. He certainly appeared surprised, but there were the little things, the slight grin, and the light in his eyes which looked almost expectant, positively proud and delighted.

Snart's reaction was perhaps the strangest. He looked simultaneously smug, vindicated and annoyed at the same time, with a touch of eagerness as his finger twitched on his gun's trigger, just waiting to be aimed. It soon turned to one of absolute shock, however, when he realised-

"You're a _child?"_

The hooded figured pouted, of all things. "Dude! I'm well into my teens!"

"A _child_. A _kid_ took down my old partner?" he asked in incredulousness, ignoring Hartley's bewildered sputtering.

The masked speedster rolled his eyes. "Stop calling me that. I'm young; doesn't mean I can't kick your ass."

The statement seemed to bring Snart out of his shock.

And then chaos erupted.

* * *

Barry twisted, turning his torso quickly to avoid another blast of ice. It missed, just barely, and that was worrying. He could dodge it with his eyes closed last he tried- was he getting slower? If his power was slowly fading… that would be bad. He needed to wrap this fight up so he could figure out what was going on with him.

 _Whirr!_

Too close!

"Getting a bit tired, are we, Speedy?"

"Speedy? That's a horrible nickname, seriously. It makes me sound like a cartoon rodent," Barry shot back, dancing around another blast. He feinted right, then switched directions mere moments after Snart had taken aim and dashed straight towards him instead. He punched tried to punch him in the head, to knock him out and end it quickly before someone got hurt, but he underestimated Snart. He dodged out of nowhere, and Barry was carried forward by the momentum. Unable to stop himself fast enough, he took a shot to the back for it.

He tried to bite back a screech of pain, to make it seem like he wasn't affected, but to no avail. He tried to move forwards to try again but-

Yeah, no. He was definitely getting slower.

He stuck to dodging, then. With grace he didn't know he had, he tried to wait out his opponent until he made a mistake. He had to make one at some point.

And then Snart shot the floor beneath his feet. His friction gone, he slipped, momentum carrying forward until he crashed into the wall. Painfully. He could physically _feel_ Caitlin's pity.

"Bit out of your element, it seems. You're still new at this, kid. How on Earth did Mick lose to you?"

Of course he was out of his element; he was a science nerd and he'd somehow gotten it into his head that he had a chance at being some sort of costumed vigilante. Not that it'd matter, though. If he didn't pick himself up and end this quickly, he'd soon end up burning up the rest of his energy and…

Energy.

He felt like hitting himself, then.

Cold isn't actually a tangible concept. Just like darkness is the absence of light, cold is the absence of heat, or more specifically, energy. Each blast he'd taken, each moment he spent in the same room made him slower, zapping away at his energy reserves until he was barely able to run at a quarter of his normal speeds.

He was in AP Physics! For god's sake, he should know this!

Yeah, no. He wasn't going to win this by brute force alone; he'd have to outsmart his enemy. Biting his lip, he picked himself up from the ground.

"Mmm… you should know when you're beaten, Kid," Snart said, taking aim with his gun once more. "You're only making this more painful for yourself. Tell you what, co-operate, and I'll end you quickly, and these four can go free- I won't require Dr. Wells' service anymore, I'm afraid."

"Aha, no. C'mon, I'd lose all trace of my dignity if I lost to a guy who looks like he's been pulled out of _Snowmageddon_. Actually, now that I think about it, a bit of white face paint and you could pass as Sans for Halloween."

Briefly, he heard Cisco snort despite his situation, and he smirked slightly.

The Eskimo-wannabe didn't seem fazed, however. "Suit yourself," he said, and shot another barrage from his gun.

Barry darted to and fro, moving individual parts of his body rapidly as he tried to heat himself up while he dodged the blasts. It seemed to be working slightly, but nowhere near enough to make a big effort. There had to be a more efficient way.

 _One which I'll have to figure out later_ , he berated himself as he was grazed by the ice. Driving all his attention onto the matter at hand, he ran around Snart again in a wide circle, multiple times, in his attempt to make him lose focus. His shots kept missing as he couldn't adjust his aim quickly enough to keep up with Barry, which was just what Barry wanted. In one quick swoop, he closed in on Snart.

He didn't try to punch him out again, not this time. Snart had braced himself to dodge at the last minute, supporting himself with his left leg while simultaneously shooting a blast with his right hand. Instead, Barry stopped a few feet short of Snart and ducked to the ground, letting the low-friction ground carry him forward, and with one quick leg sweep, he threw off Snart's balance. Snart crashed to the ground, head first, and groaned as the ice shattered beneath him.

Barry grinned. "You were saying, Frosty?"

In retrospect, he should've taken whatever advantage he could have instead of bantering, because Snart wasn't out for the count yet. Barry turned his attention away for a moment, just one moment, to look for something to restrain him, but that was all it took for Snart, from his position on the floor, to shoot his knees out.

He gasped in pain, even as Snart slowly picked himself up from the floor, disoriented.

"As I was saying; goodnight kid."

And then the world exploded in white.

He flew through the air a few feet and crashed back on the floor. Surprisingly, he wasn't the only one, as he heard the dull _thump_ and distinct sound of ice shattering not too far from him. Regaining his bearings quite quickly, he saw Dr. Wells, still handcuffed to the chair but ducked behind it, using it to protect himself from an icy explosion. A little further beyond him appeared to be an exploded metallic gas container. The other teenagers in the room looked slightly rattled by the bursting canister, but were out of the explosion's range.

Oh, so that's what that was.

Realising that he was, indeed, putting innocent people- his _friends_ , mostly- in danger, Barry quickly used his moment of repose to speed the rest of the room's occupants out of the lab.

He took too long, though. By the time he'd managed to drag them out of the room- _God, Cisco, what have you been_ eating _? You're heavier than Dr. Wells!_ \- Snart was long gone, the only sign of his existence was the scattered ice around the room.

And, you know, the broken window with the ice ramp sliding to the bottom. Damn criminals…

Slightly hesitantly, he turned to face his friends, his employer, and the guy he thought was a complete asshole.

"Hey," Cisco nodded, then grinned something fierce. "That. Was. AWESOME! Dude, you _have_ to show me how you did that!"

"Cisco…" Caitlin groaned. "Give the guy a break, _please_."

"I say it as I see it, Cait."

"I noticed," Hartley drawled. "Dr. Wells, I'm afraid that for all you say his brain is good for, it doesn't have a very good filter, does it?"

"Mr. Rathaway…"

Caitlin snorted, and Cisco rolled his eyes. "Do you see what I have to deal with?"

"Hmm, yeah, my friends are much the same," he agreed with his still-disguised voice, his eyes dancing in amusement. "Anyway, I… I should probably untie you guys about now."

"Oh great," Hartley groaned. "He _is_ clueless. And he has the power to break the known rules of physics. We're officially doomed. I'll start building the bunker."

"I could just leave you tied up, you know."

"No, you wouldn't. You're not that kind of person."

Barry raised his eyebrow, a fruitless gesture with his hood up and domino mask in place. "I literally just met you today. How could you possibly say you know me?"

"Alright then, prove me wrong," Hartley challenged.

"Okay, I will."

"Do it, then."

"…Shut up."

* * *

"And then Dr. Wells blew up the canister for liquid helium and knocked both of them back and…" Cisco paused for a moment where the officer's notepad tilted just enough for him to see what was written on it.

 _Possible hallucinations from the shock; witness might need psychological therapy. Possibly drugged?_

The officer didn't even seem to notice he's stopped talking.

Cisco scowled. "Are you even listening to what I'm saying?"

The officer hummed noncommittally. "Yeah, yeah. Snart kidnaps you to force your mentor to build weapons for some fictitious enemy-"

"I think we're done here," Caitlin said coldly. "Clearly, you don't seem to be taking us seriously, despite the fact that our stories are nigh-identical."

The officer looked up at Caitlin, and sighed. "Look, kids, I've got to be blunt here. The ice gun? Yeah, sure, Snart's new weapon is practically the talk of Central City's underbelly, and has been for about a month. Everything else though… I mean, _superspeed?_ It sounds like something out of a comic book."

Hartley glared. "We weren't drugged. Your logic doesn't even make sense! Why would Snart _drug_ us into imagining that a person with the capability of such velocity was real, in a way that makes him look weaker than the image he'd try to project? And then leave without the very reason he attacked us in the first place?"

The man shrugged. "Kid, that's not my job. I'm not into psychology- we've got people on the force for just that. I'll bring it up with them, but come on, you're what, 16? And you're interning at one of the most important scientific cites in the continent. Be reasonable here; is it more likely that you've been under the influence of a mind-altering substance, or that there really is a person- a _teenager,_ according to you- who somehow can run faster than you can see him?"

Hartley rolled his eyes. "Don't try to use that logic against me- I've been trying to convince myself of that for the past half hour and it's not sticking. Try something new."

The officer gave him a deadpan look. "Kid, while I'd _love_ to stand here debating with you all day, my time is valuable, and I've got a job to do. If it means that much to you, we'll get forensics over here to check it out, and if you can offer a blood sample we might be able to prove one of us wrong- although I hear some drugs dissipate quickly, so it's not the most reliable method if it's one of those. But right now, I'm more interested in hearing about your other friend- Allen, was it? Detective West's foster kid who alerted Ms. Snow's mother?"

Cisco's eyes suddenly widened as he realised that, in all the confusion, he'd forgotten about his missing friend. "Holy crap! Barry!"

"Is he okay? Have you found him?" Caitlin asked, urgency dripping into her voice, as the matter was brought to her attention.

"No- he seems to have disappeared."

"Disappeared?!" demanded Caitlin. "Oh, crap. He could've been taken hostage by one of the guards if a few had gotten away, or he could be bleeding out somewhere-"

Hartley rolled his eyes. "Geez, calm down, Snow. If he's nowhere to be seen, he's probably still running around the vents somewhere; they would've found signs of a struggle by now- _obvious signs._ "

"Indeed," the officer confirmed. "We'll send a search team to try and find him; with all the excitement and adrenaline, he might have not noticed the sirens."

"No need," another officer called, "We've just about got everything here wrapped up, save for some of the forensics."

"Daryl?" the first officer inquired.

"We found the kid stumbling around in one of the basement levels- he practically barricaded himself in. He's with one of the other officers, telling his side of the story."

"Is he okay?" Cisco asked, nervous.

Officer Daryl paused for a moment, unsure of how he should answer. "Well… he seems pretty beaten up, physically I mean, and he's probably traumatised- the kid was practically shivering when we got to him. He got grazed in the ear with a bullet- that's probably the cause of the gunfire you heard after the alarm was tripped. He's also got some rope burns, but he should be fine in a few days, if I may speak from prior experience. From what I've seen, you're lucky to have him as a friend; very brave, what he did. Kid's a real hero."

* * *

 **A/N: Another late chapter! Wow, I really need to get my schedule in order… So! The holidays are over! And I have successfully completed… 0 spare chapters.**

 **I know, I'm very sorry, but I only had two weeks, and in those two weeks, I had Easter Sunday, my grandfather visiting for the first time in over a year, Good Friday, my sister's birthday, my own birthday (I'm now 15, for those wondering), my first time going out with my friends in over 6 months, a shit ton of homework, studying for a metric fuck ton of tests, a few family crises, and days when I was just so tired I barely wanted to read fanfiction, let alone write.**

 **I should point out that I have no idea how a police station works. At all. I've never actually been to one, and Hollywood is not a reliable source of information. That scene is not #truefax.**

 **Now! Onto the reason most of you even read the author's note; QOTC!**

 **First off, last chapter's winner! Congratulations to Gui kun for being the first to answer correctly!**

 **Now, for today's question for some true comic fans; Who is... Max Mercury?**

 **Hope you've all enjoyed this chapter- I've made it slightly longer to compensate for the fluctuating schedule.**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**


	10. Chapter 10- Repercussions

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life's just gotten a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry.

 **Beta Reader: Currently, none**

 **Created: 28/04/17**

 **Modified: 28/04/17, 29/04/17, 30/04/17, 01/05/17, 05/05/17**

 **Total word count: 4011**

 **Edited: 09/05/17 (Thanks to ChangelingRin for pointing it out!)**

 **Published: 05/05/17**

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 10- Repercussions**

 **By SilentEevee**

* * *

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Iris asked for the umpteenth time as she sat by Barry's side in his room while he was confined to bedrest by Joe, her arm placed firmly on his shoulder in encouragement. "You've had a really hard time lately, with the incident at S.T.A.R. Labs and all, and while what you did was really brave, I'm not going to judge you if all this ends up being a bit too much for you."

Barry rolled his eyes, annoyed at her mother-Henning, though he was inwardly pleased that she cared so much about him. "I'm just fine, Iris. Really, I am. I'm not going to suddenly break down or anything- really, it wasn't _that_ scary."

In turn, Iris sighed in disbelief. "You boys, I swear, you're just unbelievable. Cisco and Cait told me you got _shot_ at, Bear. You were held captive by a criminal. It's perfectly reasonable to feel shaken. But no, you just don't want to admit it."

Except he wasn't. Not really, anyway. Sure, the experience was exhilarating and frightening and amazing all at once, but he'd been in tougher situations before- he'd been routinely being shot at on a nightly basis ever since he'd woken up. But he couldn't exactly tell Iris, or Joe or Caitlin and Cisco that.

So instead he just smiled cheekily at her. "Who on Earth said I'm shaken? _Puh_ -lease, I could go up against _twenty_ more armed men, without breaking a sweat, and take on a dozen Snart's to boot. At the same time. I'm, like, a regular James Bond type. This was just the start, you wait and see. Next time, I'll fly into a volcano supervillain lair to save the day on a rocket-powered helicopter while blowing up a dozen terrorist bases. See you on the national news, when I accept my medal of valour. One which I'll only accept when presented by the President himself, of course."

And Iris laughed beautifully, a melodic sound that never stopped sending Barry's heart fluttering. "Keep dreaming, Agent, keep dreaming."

* * *

"You can't do this!" Caitlin exclaimed. "You, you can't just _forbid_ me from going there- I have a job to do! That I got, all on my own! I'm not backing out now!"

"I can, and I will, Caitlin," her mother proclaimed. "Your first day, and you were held _hostage_ by a rambling madman, who seems to have infected you with his delusions, might I add! A teenager with superspeed, indeed! I wouldn't be surprised if Dr. Wells hired you and orchestrated this entire event, at this point, if only to prevent you from taking up my place in the company when you've finished your education!"

Caitlin's blood ran cold, her rage dissipating into a frosty, calculating anger. "How dare you," she spoke in a tone low and threatening enough to make grown men pause. "How _dare_ you insinuate that I'm not good enough to gain such a position under my own power? That I'm somehow not _good enough_ to achieve what others have done before me, in _stride!"_

Carla scowled. "Don't you twist my words, Caitlin Danielle Snow! You know very well that's not what I was implying!"

"Do I?"

"Yes, you do!" her mother replied, before sighing. "Caitlin," she spoke, tone low and tired. "Caitlin, dear, please, I'm not doing this to hurt you. When I heard you friend over the phone, when I found out what was happening at S.T.A.R. Labs, I thought… I thought you were going to…" she trailed off.

Caitlin's eyes softened. "Mom-"she began, but was cut off.

"I know I don't always show it," Carla started, unsure and eyes filled with pain. "It's been difficult, ever since… ever since your father died. I'll be the first to admit that I've been found wanting as a maternal figure. It's just so much _easier_ to bury myself in my work, to forget my troubles and grief and responsibilities. And, I suppose, you along with it. But despite it all, I _do_ care, Caitlin, very much indeed, and I am proud, _so proud_ , of what you've become." She closed her eyes, trying to blink away the tears. "I just… I don't want you to end up the same way your father did, Caitlin. Not for a long, long while yet. No child should be outlived by their parent."

Caitlin looked down. "Mom I… I understand what you're trying to say but… but this was a one-time thing; a sheer coincidence. I promise I'll be careful, I really do, and if this ever happens again, I'll be the first to resign from my position." She gazed back up at her mother, her gaze determined. "But, mom, I want to make my own way in the world. I don't want people to look at me and think that I'm unworthy, that the only reason I've come so far is because you've paved my way for me. I want to be recognised for _me,_ not stuck in someone's shadow. You're the one who taught me to never back down, to be resilient, ignore what everyone else wants me to be, and be _mighty_. To look at those who tell me 'no, you can't' in the eye and _show_ them that yes, I can, and will do so as I damn well please. Please, let me make myself what you'd wished I'd be."

Carla looked at her daughter, took in all her determination and ambition, with pride and sadness. Her daughter was growing up, taking risks, and becoming independent. With a great, silent sigh, she relented, just this once. "Alright, I'll hold you to that promise. But just so you know, if I ever hear that something fishy is going on in that place, something that puts you in danger, I'm pulling you out so fast that light speed would appear sluggish in comparison."

Caitlin smiled. "Thanks mom."

"Just… stay safe, Cait. _Please._ I can't lose you too. _"_

* * *

"So, I don't know if you noticed, but I got the internship I've been so hyped about for the last few weeks- I told you about it a few days ago, if you don't remember; it was my first day on the job today," Cisco said as he and his family sat at the dinner table.

His father hummed noncommittally as he focused his attention on another tale of an incident which'd occurred at Dante's piano lesson that same day.

" _Típico_ ," he muttered. "I got held hostage," he said, louder. "I was forced into a room with a criminal with a stolen prototype from S.T.A.R. Labs that looks like something one of Batman's villains would use. I almost died, like twice. In one day. Oh, and I met this kid who can break the laws of physics as we know them. They'll probably have to be rewritten, soon. I think we'd be good friends, if I got to know him a bit better."

"That's nice, Francisco," his mother said dismissively. "But don't interrupt your brother when he's talking- it's rude. What were you saying, Dante?"

"Oh, yes," Dante beamed, smirking slightly at his brother. "So, I was playing one of Beethoven's pieces, Für Elise- rather insipid, really- when my teacher told me that my talent was purely divine, and said that she believed the future held bright things for me if I continued on this path."

"How _wonderful_ ," Cisco drawled, sarcasm gushing out of his lips as he stabbed his meal with his fork in frustration.

"Isn't it?" his father beamed, completely oblivious to his son's emotional state. "You can't imagine how proud I am, Dante, you're going to take this family into the history books!"

Cisco briefly entertained the idea on whether or not it was possible to abuse a dead chicken, because he was certainly doing his utmost to attempt it.

* * *

"You should've been there, Barry! The whole thing looked like something out of a Marvel comic- like the X-men one with Quicksilver! The kid moved so fast you couldn't even see him; he's like a blur! One moment he's talking smack to Snart and then _bam_ , he's on him in a flash and taking him down so quickly it's _nobody's business!"_ Cisco exclaimed, once again retelling the events to the one person who hadn't been there who was willing to believe over Skype Chat, since he and his friends had been excused from school for a week to recover from the ordeal.

"Sounds cool- I would've loved to see that."

"You know, he seemed to resemble you quite a bit," Caitlin commented offhandedly, noticing the slight way Barry tensed up at her remark. She frowned mentally for a moment, and then decided to figure out why later. If she ever found the time.

"Oh-" Barry cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back to a lower pitch. "Oh really?" he asked, after Cisco had finished his round of laughter.

"Puberty's a bitch, ain't it Barry?" Cisco asked rhetorically, and Barry vehemently agreed.

"Seriously, though," Caitlin began, "if I didn't know you, I'd almost wonder if it was you in the suit. I mean, you both had a similar body structure and the same sense of humour. Your bantering is just as awful as his. Plus, you carry yourselves in similar ways, though he's perhaps a bit more confident."

"I'm telling you, Cait," Cisco said. "We should find the dude, introduce him to Care-Bear here, and spend the night geeking out over some classic movies. I think The Flash would _love_ , say, watching a season of Sherlock."

"Flash?" Barry inquired, an eyebrow raised. He liked the sound of that, actually. "You've nicknamed him?"

Cisco shrugged. "I mean, why not? He moves like a flash, so it suits him, and I'm not just going to call him 'the kid who saved my life' or 'the superspeed kid'. Though I think anyone would appreciate being called 'the kid who broke physics'. Plus, it's way better than something generic like, I don't know, Quickstep or Speedy."

Barry looked thoughtful, while Caitlin smiled playfully. "Okay, then, Mr. Nicknamer, any idea what we could call our kidnapper?"

"Cold."

"Cold?" Barry repeated. "Doesn't sound very original, or all that intimidating, actually." He put on a faux-threatening voice and grinned. "Rawr! Fear me! I am the frightful supervillain, Cold! I am the one man to put the Flash on ice, permanently! Tremble before my might, and fear my chosen minions- the dreaded, endangered Polar Bears! It's ingenious, because if any harm comes to them, I can sue you for animal abuse! Mwahahaha!" He further emphasised his words with making exaggerated hand movements and twirling an invisible moustache.

Caitlin burst out laughing, and Cisco huffed. "You jerk," Cisco said, affronted. "You didn't let me finish. That's just the shortened version! His full name can be Captain Cold! And don't say it like that- _any_ name will sound silly like that!"

"Might as well call him Overlord Penguin," Caitlin teased.

"You are all jerks," Cisco proclaimed in mock offence. "You just can't recognise pure genius even if it hit you in the fact with a neon sign saying 'Look at me- a bona fide genius'. Just you wait, I'll take these names to the press, and they'll be begging for me to be a creative consultant for any future editorial names."

Barry snorted. "Ah, yes, such an honour it must be, having the people whose best attempt to come up with a decent name was Heatwave approve of your nicknames; I'm sure you'd be very proud to lead such an esteemed group of intellects. You might as well get comfortable with it because, incidentally, it'd be the only group you ever lead."

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this? You've been through a lot lately, it's perfectly understandable if you need some time to rest up and recover, mentally I mean. I've worked with plenty of people with similar experiences in the past, and while you are taking it a lot better than I thought you would, you seem so nonplussed that it's almost scary, Barry."

Barry put down his schoolbooks and looked up at his foster father, seeing the worry clearly etched on his face. His stomach flipped for a moment when he'd realised he could elevate a lot of fears by simply explaining why he seemed so unflappable, even if he'd end up unloading him with an entirely new list of potentially worse fears. But he couldn't do that to him, _wouldn't_ do that- what happened to him was his burden to bear, and his alone.

So instead, he just plopped a smile on his face, hoping to console the man who took him in that way. "I'm fine, Joe! Really, if you and Iris keep asking me that all the time I think I might actually go insane, and then we'd _really_ need a therapist," he joked, eliciting a small snort of laughter from Joe despite himself. They both sobered up quickly, though. "Seriously, Joe, I'm feeling okay, really. I'm made of tough stuff, y' know."

"I know you are, Bear," Joe began, and Barry nearly groaned when he realised this was the beginning of one of Joe's protests. "But really, I think we'd both feel better, along with Iris, if we did accept the station's offer of introducing us to a therapist- just one session, that's all that we'd need, Barry, if you're really as fine as you say you are."

"Joe," Barry sighed long-sufferingly, " _please_ don't do this to me, you know I dislike therapists. Remember what happened when you sent me to one after my mother died?"

"That's not the same thing."

"You're right, it's not," Barry admitted. "Last time, the person was trying to help me get over my grief, while also simultaneously thinking I was insane with my idea. But still, you have no idea what it's like. When I went there… it's like everything that made me… well, _me…_ was being stripped away, examined and analysed, trying to make me fit into a text-book approved standardised version of reality. The man honestly made me feel as though there was something _wrong_ with me, Joe. Like there was something… impure about what I experienced."

"Barry, if your old therapist bothered you that much, you should have told me!" Joe exclaimed, honestly perturbed at himself for not having realised how his foster son felt sooner. "I promise you it wouldn't be as bad this time- you haven't been seeing things again that'd make them think you're insane-"

"Seeing things?" Barry echoed. "I wasn't _seeing things_ , Joe, I know _exactly_ what I saw, and it was real- I know it." _And I have proof that I'm not crazy, not in that regard._

"I don't want to choose sides on this matter, but I trust what the CSIs said. It's a reasonable deduction, given the evidence. I know you don't like hearing this, Barry, but it's the truth and as much as I wish I could change it, I _can't_. And somewhere, I know you know this too, Barry. You know who killed your mother. You just can't accept it."

"Stop. Just… stop," Barry grit out. "That's not- Joe I… no one believes me when I tell them what I saw. No one _ever_ believes me, and I understand that. It's an extraordinary, fantastical claim, one which the evidence they've gathered seems to be completely against, on the surface, and no one really thinks they need to dig deeper beyond that. But I've always wished you did."

Joe felt something truly fierce stabbing at his heart at that moment. He didn't apologise, there was no reason to if it wasn't true, and apologising about his ideas wouldn't magically change either one of their minds. "Damn it, he muttered to himself. With a sigh, he let the matter drop. "Fine, Bear, you've made your points already, and debating either of these things isn't going to change either of our minds. I'm just trying my best to do what I think is best for you, but if you really don't want a therapist, I won't force you to go to one. But the offer's always on the table, if you decide to change your mind."

"Thanks, Joe," he said with a small smile. It was hollow, though, and both of them could tell.

* * *

Going back to school after such a public act of heroics, in his civilian persona nonetheless, was simultaneously the best and worst thing that ever happened to him. Everywhere he went, eyes were upon him, scrutinising him in ways he hadn't thought possible. Whispers echoed around the room until they formed an unintelligible mumble.

Barry didn't like it.

There were people who walked up to him, patted him on the back and gave him a smile, told him he'd done a great job, and moved on with his life. He liked those people- they made him feel appreciated, even if the act his public persona played in all of it was a mild one.

But then there were people who scoffed at his actions, or indeed, the entire event. People who, once they read the witness statements everyone involved had given in, shook their heads and rolled their eyes, saying that the entire thing was ridiculous and impossible, and even took to shaming the people involved, thinking it was just a publicity stunt created by the large corporation. While these ideas had their merit, and objectively Barry could understand how farfetched it, and in turn, he, had sounded.

Thus, it was unfortunate that reality turned out to actually be this strange.

"Oh, look here, guys, the great _hero_ 's back," a very unpleasant but unfortunately familiar voice sneered.

In retrospect, he knew this confrontation was unavoidable- the two of them did share a school, after all, and he had sort of publically humiliated him when he'd first obtained his powers.

"What do you want _now_ , Tony?" he asked in exasperation.

"Nothing much," Tony began dismissively, though the look of eager anticipation on his face betrayed him. "It just so happened that with all your undeserved _fame_ , I realised that I happen to owe you one for that time back in the cafeteria."

"You mean the time I kicked your butt?" He jabbed. He'd pay for that later. Totally worth it, though.

"He was going _easy_ on you, you _retard_!" one of Tony's friends, Jeremy, said in his defence. "What, you don't think you're actually _that_ important, do you? That he'd waste all his energy on you, and when you're barely able to walk straight, too? HA! 'Thought you were supposed to be _smart_."

Yes, he did think that, because he'd seen Tony scoop even lower than that to assert his dominance in the social grapevine, and on plenty of other individuals, not just him. But he didn't voice these thoughts out loud, and instead replied with a simple shrug. It wasn't like he could solve this diplomatically at this point, so he might as well not bother wasting his breath, and turning to authority figures long-since proved futile; they didn't want their precious quarterback to end up missing a game, after all.

"Try and run now, you little freak," Tony sneered, as his friends quickly closed off all the exits, while another pair held him down. "Some hero!" he scoffed. "How the hell did you sell that, you snivelling coward?"

Without being able to defend himself for fear of revealing how true Tony's first statement actually was, he really couldn't do anything but brace himself when the punches came.

* * *

The media, Eobard mused, was going to be the death of him.

It was bothersome no matter what time period one was in, and just as vicious no matter if they portrayed you as the victim, the hero, or the villain. He should know that better than most, he's played all three at some point. Even in the cleanest, most obvious genuine do-gooder, they always tried to find the dirtiest secrets that person kept, even if it was mostly speculation, in their efforts to break the news. The fact that most of it had a political agenda these days didn't help any, and it was truly bothersome having to go investigate the stories that truly impacted him himself because he couldn't trust a single outlet. Metropolis hadn't hired the Lane lady yet, and Central City Picture News had yet to discover the honest gem that Iris West could be after she graduated. He couldn't wait until the day came when he would be free to work in peace without anybody trying to find his hidden secret agenda, never mind the fact that they were right in this instance.

Speaking of his secret agenda, there was quite probably only a single beneficial act to come out of Snart's attack. The man who would later become known as Captain Cold had yet to ascend to the skill he'd obtained through years of fighting with his nemesis, but he'd get there soon enough. He'd make a great potentially ally, one day. He was already unintentionally helping his cause by providing him a way to gauge his enemy's progress without having to reveal himself just yet.

Though _officially_ all the cameras in the room had been wiped out, malfunctioned due to the extreme cold that they hadn't been built to withstand, the ones he'd bugged the company rooms with were much more resistant due to years of experimentation to combat the very effects supervillain attacks, metahuman or otherwise, had on the equipment. Ahh, how he missed the future and all the glories that it had. The 'present' was a cesspool compared to it. Big Belly Burger was quite probably the only thing that made it remotely tolerable, besides the praise he received daily as a genius, even though personally he believed himself to be far beyond that title.

On a brighter note, the event had not even hindered his plan in the slightest. While his new interns' parents might be more hesitant to trust their children in his care, it was clearly not enough to pull them out, though they had considered it in some cases. Even if that came to pass, however, it wouldn't be a true loss unless Flash were to leave the group. The others were optional- they were certainly bright students whose talents would be useful and easy to exploit, but not quite _necessary_ just yet. He'd worked hard trying to create a team dynamic that would balance each member out, true, but each of their roles could have another member in their steed. Killer Frost would be the medical expert while she lasted, Ramon would be the technological expert- and he truly was a marvel, able to build in days what people spend years planning, and hardly ever wrong in his designs- while Rathaway would be the pessimistic, pragmatic worldview to Flash's insufferable optimism.

Each of them, of course, could be replaced or eliminated if required, but he'd already worked so hard to manipulate them that it'd be wasteful to replace them, _especially_ when he regarded how easy it would be for Flash to trust two of his teammates, who in a stroke of luck had ended up befriending him in this timeline. But replaced, they all could be, and rather easily. His role, of course, would be the only one he couldn't dismiss, along with Bartholomew's. As the mentor, the teacher, the authority figure, it would be his job to guide them to success, or at least a perceived idea of success which simultaneously furthered his agenda.

It would be hard and filled with strife, but even imagining the look on Flash's face, present or future, when he realised the truth behind Eobard's past was worth the effort. Even if it annoyed him to actually have to preserve his enemy's life, like he had when he'd blown up the liquid helium tank the other day.

…Though if the kid ended up turning him into what the media would define as an anti-hero, he might actually gut him, and damn the consequences.

* * *

 **A/N: New early chapter is new and early! Yay! Just a bit over a week- is this sufficient repayment for my previous lateness?**

 **I literally cannot wait for summer- I am** _ **dying**_ **to have the time I need to be able to churn out chapter after chapter in a matter of weeks! Of course, I probably won't be able to get that much done- I'm thinking of going to learn self-defence classes myself, so that I don't turn myself into a couch potato, and I have prior engagements that have priority over fanfiction, but I'll still be able to get a lot more done than I currently do.**

 **Of course, that means exams are coming soon… I've never felt so** _ **overjoyed**_ **(notice the** _ **sarcasm)**_

 **Anyway! So, mostly filler, but it had to happen- this sort of stuff cannot be brushed under the rug, and unlike in a TV show I have unlimited time to explore other people's reactions to this sort of thing, so expect more filler chapters in the future after a big event that sets people on a certain path. Of course, if every time something bad happens I give a big reflective chapter that'd get annoying really fast, but as this is the first time they've ever encountered a supervillain (except Barry) it's only natural for this kind of reaction to happen**

 **Now that I'm done rambling, it's time for yet another QOTC!**

 **So, time to announce the winners; Congratulations to Superheros17 for getting the answer correct. If I'm not mistaken, this is your** _ **third time**_ **getting a chapter question correct! CONGRATULATIONS! You can consider the next chapter to be dedicated to you, pal! Thanks for your continued support to this story, it really means a lot!**

 **And, for today's question…**

 **In the comics, how did Ironman reveal his identity?**

 **(It was a secret identity for a** _ **long time**_ **in the comics, despite what the movies would have you believe.)**

 **(Also, I know this is a marvel question. IDC.)**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**


	11. Chapter 11- Embarrassment

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life's just gotten a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry.

 **Beta Reader: ParradoxUniverse**

 **Created: 05/05/17**

 **Modified: 05/05/17, 06/05/17, 07/05/17**

 **Total word count: 4370**

 **Published: 16/05/17**

* * *

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 11- Embarrassment**

 **By SilentEevee**

"Wait, you're serious?" Iris asked, as she, Cisco and Caitlin sat together at lunch. "You're actually serious about this."

"Of course I am," Cisco confirmed, slightly puzzled. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Nothing it's just, this could be dangerous and you… you didn't really strike me as the type who was into this sort of thing."

"You mean superheroes?" Cisco inquired, an eyebrow raised. "Because that's what this guy is; he has superpowers and saved our lives, so yeah, superhero. Also, have you met me? Superheroes are my life!"

"He's not wrong," Caitlin commented. "You should see him at Comic-Con; he's so obsessed about meeting certain actors that he's about a lab accident away from holding the world hostage so he can have them sign his comic. Especially if that person is Robert Downey Junior or Hugh Jackman. He's a Marvel _fanatic_."

"I'm not that bad!" Cisco protested, but no one seemed to believe him. "And besides, this isn't about that. Are you in, or not?"

"I don't know, I mean it sounds kind of dangerous. I mean, sure, he saved our lives, but this isn't like the comics," Caitlin pointed out. "It's just as likely that there was some sort of benefit in it for the kid. Not that it's wrong for him to be rewarded for good deeds, but it might not be as heroic as you might think. And even if that wasn't the case, he hasn't exactly done his utmost to go public about his identity- it's very possible that he doesn't want anyone to know about what he can do in fear of persecution."

"Persecution?" Iris asked. "Why would they persecute him? I mean, sure, if this guy can genuinely do what you're claiming he can, that's impressive and I can see why people would be interested in the science of it- heck, I'm interested, and I'm not even a scientist. But to be hated just because you have a gift? I don't know, it sounds a bit farfetched."

"Clearly, you need to start reading X-men." snorted Cisco.

"Cisco, that's a comic book."

"I know that, Caitlin! But the points they make are valid! People fear what's different… generally speaking."

"So then wouldn't it make more sense to let the matter lie? So that we don't inadvertently do something that puts him, or all of us, in danger for what he can do? And, again, privacy is a thing."

Cisco groaned.

"C'mon, Cait! We're not that stupid. We're not Tony. If anything, we'd be helping him! You've seen what he's wearing- a domino mask and a hoodie? It barely works for Green Arrow, and he's just asking for trouble. If you want to keep your identity safe, you wear a cowl- that's what Batman allegedly uses, and he clearly knows his stuff! Batman's practically a ninja! Flash may have good intentions, but he's untrained and he's just… he's just winging it! He needs help, even if he doesn't know it. I've already got, like, a dozen designs in mind for an absolutely awesome uniform, something that may actually offer him a bit of protection for when he does inevitably get shot or blasted or he slams into something."

"What makes you think he'll even accept your help, even if you do track him down?"

"I don't. But from what I've seen, he seems like the kind of guy to at least hear me out before dismissing my ideas."

"…If anyone's interested in what I have to say," Iris intervened. "I think it's a very ambitious, very kind idea, Cisco."

"But…" Cisco prompted.

"But I'm a bit hesitant to trust him." Iris said, prompting a look of incredulousness from Cisco. "Hear me out before you start arguing- from what you've told me, we've got a case of a kid who runs around at super speed, who looks like a blur of red and trails yellow lightning. Sound familiar?"

Caitlin eyes widened, and Cisco's face was comical as his jaw practically dropped to the floor. "You think he's the one Barry saw that night?"

"I think there's something he hasn't told you. He's probably not the one who killed Nora Allen- he would've been, what, nine years old? Sounds a bit farfetched to me. But maybe, just maybe, he knows something. Maybe he's related to the Man in Yellow, like an estranged relative, or maybe he received his powers in the same way, possibly even at the same time as Nora's murderer. Or maybe there's a secret civilization of people with super speed, and this guy- what did you call him? Flash?" Iris asked, and Cisco nodded.

"Well, it's kind of a nickname, but yeah."

"So maybe this Flash guy is one of these super speed… people. These speedsters, if you will. Maybe he has some information that could potentially help us crack Barry's case wide open and prove his father's innocence."

"So… you're in, then?"

"Yeah, I'm in. I'll help you find Flash, and then maybe we'll get some answers."

Cisco looked to Caitlin hopefully. "Cait? Please?"

Caitlin bit her lip. This was a very, bad idea. There were so many different ways this could go wrong, not to mention the emotional trauma this could unleash. If they pushed too hard, they could even end up making an enemy of the speedster. That would be… unwise to say the least. If the kid had even the slightest idea of physics, he could become infinitely more dangerous as an enemy.

But on the other hand, this could be their only chance to prove Barry right. To prove a story so many had doubted her friend for, had called him crazy over. If they missed this opportunity, however this turned out, Henry Allen might actually die in prison for a crime he didn't commit.

Ugh, when did life become so complicated?

Caitlin sighed, and turned to her friends.

"This is a very, very bad idea but… fine, I'll join your team. Even if it'll probably be the death of me. You bastards."

Iris grinned, and Cisco looked positively elated.

"Yes! This is going to be so awesome! I can't wait to tell Barry!"

"No!" Caitlin interjected, perhaps a little too forcefully, causing two faces to turn to her in confusion. "No, there is no way we are bringing Barry into this. Guys, I don't mean to be mean about this, but Barry's obsessed with this case, rightly so. He stays out of this until we prove sufficient results. I mean, just think about it! What happens if we do meet this kid, but it ends up being just a pure coincidence and Flash has nothing to do with the Man in Yellow? He'll be devastated. All that work and he's back to square one. And if the kid is related to him? How do you think Barry will react? No, we keep this a secret until further notice, or I'm out."

"…She's right, Cisco," Iris admitted reluctantly. "Damn it. I hate keeping secrets but… we have to do this, don't we? It's not like the cops will believe us, not even my dad- you've already proved they won't."

"I really hate it when you're right, Cait."

"You must hate me all the time, then," Caitlin joked.

"I do, actually. The only reason I put up with you is because Barry and Iris pity you," Cisco retorted with a grin.

Caitlin was going to continue the banter, but a thought occurred to her before she could do so. "Hey… where is Barry anyway?"

Iris stood up from the lunch table, hoping to get a good look around the lunchroom and see if he might be sitting with someone else. She didn't see any sign of him.

"He's not here," she commented, sitting back down. "Does he have a project or something with someone else in your class?"

Cisco shook his head. "Nope- we take all our classes together, and we're always in the same group. Even Ms. Lee wouldn't separate us. There's an investigation we have for Ms. Lee's class, but he wouldn't do it without us."

"He's been disappearing a lot lately," Caitlin noted.

"Maybe he's having problems after the S.T.A.R. Labs incident?" Iris asked anxiously.

Cisco shook his head. "Nah, he's been doing that before the whole thing. Actually, I think he started vanishing… right around the time he woke up."

Caitlin's eyes widened. "You don't think he relapsed, do you? You know how Barry is; he might keep something like this from us so we don't worry."

Iris shook her head. "No, Dad would tell me if something's been going on. He wouldn't keep something like this from me, and I'd notice if he and Barry were having routine visits to the hospital."

"Then where is he?" Caitlin queried.

Cisco glanced around the room, trying to see if Tony's gang was nearby. They were, on the other side of the cafeteria, laughing about something. "…You guys… you don't think he's stuck in a locker again, or something? It's happened before- Tony might've upped his game."

"…Shit."

* * *

Barry wasn't stuck in a locker. Or anywhere, mind you. Rather, he was patrolling the streets at speeds just under Mach 1, listening in to police signals he'd hacked into via his Bluetooth. It was pathetically easy to rewire his devices enough to allow them to access the frequencies the emergency services used to communicate with one another.

The city was so lucky he hadn't decided to become a supervillain.

It was a surprisingly quiet day in Central City that day- he'd actually thought of retiring early and going to enjoy what was left of his lunch hour at his own leisure, rather than just purchasing an ungodly amount of food before leaving and eating it on the way. But then again, he didn't trust how things were. Sure, there were the insignificant things, a pickpocket here, and a purse snatcher there. But anything organised? He hadn't even spotted a single drug deal!

Something big was going on in the criminal underground- something that would dissuade practically all of the organised criminals from operating.

Still, even if something big was being planned, there still wasn't anything he could do about it just yet. He didn't have connections to find out what was going on- his only possible lead was Joe, but he couldn't simply walk up to him and ask him about this stuff. Not in detail- it'd only raise suspicion, and the last thing he wanted was for Joe to think he was entangled in some criminal activity. He would never.

…Vigilantism doesn't count. Or hacking into police frequencies. Shut up.

* * *

"Where have you been?" Iris demanded as she, Cisco and Caitlin finally encountered Barry as he was entering the school. "You were just kidnapped by a legit supervillain just last week, and now you just disappear without a trace, without telling anyone? During school hours? What if a teacher saw you? What the hell, Barry?"

"Sorry, I got a bit caught up. I… decided I wanted to get myself in better shape due to… circumstances. I've been… jogging," he said quickly.

Cisco snorted. "You are a horrible liar, Barry. Try again. Preferably by giving us the truth this time?"

"Sorry," he mumbled, flushing after being caught in the act. They were right, after all. "It's just… it's… it's kinda… personal."

"Personal?" Caitlin asked. "The good kind of personal or the bad kind?"

"Uhh… I… I don't actually know how to classify it… both? Look, guys, I'm really not all that comfortable discussing this. I'm sorry; can we just move on and forget this happened? And not tell Joe? Please?"

Iris's eyes widened as a possibility fluttered into her head. "Barry… are you going out with someone?"

"What?!" Barry squeaked, his voice reaching highly impressive levels as his flush deepened. "I'm- I'm not… Cisco! Help!"

"I don't think so, Iris…" Cisco said sceptically, knowing of Barry's infatuation with his foster sister.

"Why not?" Iris prompted.

Cisco didn't answer, so Caitlin tried to pick up his slack. "He's… it's kind of complicated, Iris."

Iris looked at her foster brother for a moment, scrutinising. "…Are you gay, Barry?"

"No!"

"What?"

"Where'd you get that idea?"

Iris was taken aback for a moment due to the intense reaction of her friends. She raised her hands up in surrender. "What? You can't say you'd never considered the possibility, guys. I mean, come on, Bear. When was the last time you've even looked twice at a girl, in that manner?"

Cisco looked like he was about to burst from holding back his laughter. Caitlin hit him upside the head as Barry stuttered out nonsensical ramblings.

"You guys are keeping something from me," Iris deduced, noticing the manner in which her friends were acting. The way they instantly froze only confirmed her theories. "You do have a crush on someone, don't you Barry?"

"I- um… can we change the subject?"

"I knew it!" Iris cried victoriously with a grin plastered on her face. Finally, her brother was going to find someone. He was almost seventeen, at this point- she'd had every right to be worried. Then, she frowned as something occurred to her. "Wait, you two knew about this," she said, tone accusing as she glared at Cisco and Caitlin. "I can understand Barry not wanting to tell people about this- you two probably found out by accident, right?" she asked, turning to Barry who reluctantly nodded. "But come on! You guys seriously left me out- just me? That stings, guys."

"Iris… it wasn't our secret to tell," Caitlin explained. "You know what that's like."

"…I guess I can understand that," Iris nodded with understanding. She quickly pushed the thought to the back of her mind- she'd get her revenge later. Right now, she had more pressing matters. "So, who's the lucky girl, then?"

No one answered her, and she rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You're going to make me guess? C'mon, you know I can read you guys like an open book."

They remained silent, none of them wanting to be the first one to break the news.

"Fine, fine, I'll play the dumb game. Is it Daphne Dean? Or Patty Spivot… wait. Becky Cooper was making eyes at you the other day in the hallway. Please tell me you don't have a crush on Becky Cooper."

"No!" Barry denied instantly. Though Iris was disbelieving, clearly thinking that it was a tad too quickly.

"Then tell me who it is."

Barry sighed, prepared for the inevitable explosion. "Iris… I… I can't help my feelings! I-"

"You might as well give it up, Bear, she's caught us," Cisco prompted, giving him a significant look.

"I knew it!" Iris cheered, then sobered up as she realised what it meant. She turned to face Barry directly. "Becky Cooper? Seriously, Barry? You can do so much better than that."

Barry shrugged, not knowing what else to do in this situation.

"Ugh, boys have no taste," Iris declared. "So why haven't you asked her out yet?"

"I… I think she'd think I'm weird," he lied with the truth.

Iris scoffed. "Yeah, sure, you can be a bit out there sometimes, but that's part of your charm. You're positively adorkable, and anyone who doesn't see that is absolutely blind." Making a snap decision, she decided to take the initiative. "Come on," she said, pulling on Barry's arm and leading him down the hallway. As much as she disliked the idea, she had a mission to do.

"Iris, what are we doing?" Barry asked, his voice laced with panic.

"I'm setting you two up- I'm not going to sit by while you two make yourselves miserable, dancing around each other. Trust me; it won't be nearly as bad as you think it is."

"Iris!" he protested, sending a betrayed and accusatory glare at his so-called friend; it promised revenge and retribution, and Cisco feared for his life, just a tiny bit, until Iris had lead the poor whipped boy out of the hallway in search of her target.

The two stood in silence for a moment. Then, Caitlin turned towards Cisco. "I cannot believe you just did that to him."

"What was I supposed to do, Cait? Let her find out who he's really crushing on."

Caitlin sighed. No, that would be bad- Barry wasn't ready for that just yet.

* * *

"Cooper! Get your plastic ass over here!" Iris yelled across the hall, with Barry, who was still being lead like a stray puppy, ducking his red face in shame.

Faces instinctively turned towards them, then quickly lost interest as they realised that Iris wasn't yelling in anger. It did get Becky's attention, though, and soon after a pretty, thin redheaded girl with blue eyes and thick lips moved confidently towards Iris and her brother.

"Hey Iris," she said with a grin. "And hello to you too, handsome."

Tomatoes would forever look on with envy at the shade of red Barry's face turned as Becky arrived. This wasn't something that went unnoticed by the redhead. She gave an inquisitive look towards him, and when he didn't even attempt to answer, she turned towards his sister.

"Well?" she asked. "I don't have all day, Iris, and while I don't particularly mind staying here a while longer, I do have things to do. Preferably something as far away from you as possible."

Iris glared and muttered to herself for a moment, before taking a deep breath and plastering a smile on her face. It was fake and hollow, and they both knew it, but none of the three-present commented on it. "Well, Becky, I have just discovered that my dear foster brother has been harbouring a crush on you."

"Can I say something?" Barry said quietly, his legs practically begging for him to run away as far away as quickly as possible. He didn't enjoy the elated look on the redheaded vixen's face, not when he realised what it meant for him.

"No; you had your chance, now it's my turn."

"If you say so, Iris."

"Anyway. I've decided that since he doesn't have the courage to walk up to you and tell you, it falls onto me to end his suffering. You like him, he likes you- the question is clear. Do you want to go out with him?"

Becky snorted. "Like you even need to ask." She turned to face Barry. "She's telling the truth, right? I mean, you don't seem like the type to pull this type of prank,"

Barry's face somehow managed to defy all logic and reason and turn even redder. Typically, Cooper completely misinterpreted what this meant, and took it as a confirmation. She smirked in success- she hadn't even had to do anything this time around.

Iris rolled her eyes. "Yeah, no. Barry's actually a genuine nice guy, unlike you."

Becky sneered. "If you're just here to insult me, then leave. You've done your favour for your foster brother- your presence is no longer required."

"Gladly."

And so, Iris left, leaving a helpless Barry Allen in the grasp of Becky Cooper. She smiled, and Barry suddenly felt that he'd prefer going another round against Snart.

* * *

"So, how'd it go?" Cisco asked, barely concealing his laughter with a cough as Barry approached them, his eyes shining in defeat and his face still as red as Becky's metaphoric scarlet letter.

Barry sighed. "I have a date. A date. As in, I have to take her out this Saturday night. Ugh, Cisco, why'd you throw me under the bus? Seriously?"

"In his defence," Caitlin began, "You did want to keep your crush a secret at all costs."

Barry groaned. "I know, but now Iris thinks that I actually like Becky! I don't- she's the one I have a crush on! And I can't tell Becky that, because she actually likes me and she'll be upset!"

"Could be worse, dude,"

"How could it possibly be worse, Cisco?"

Cisco shrugged. "I mean, she's easy on the eyes, at least. You could've been going out with Etta Fisk. I heard she's got a big temper, too."

A look of undiluted horror flashed on Barry's face. "God, no, please."

Caitlin snorted at his comical expression. It was a shame she didn't have a camera. "Come on, Bear, cheer up. It might not be as bad as you think- she might actually be secretly cool. Maybe even close to human." The disbelieving look Barry sent her was enough for her to change tactics. "Okay, then, fine. Look at it this way- this is a terrific opportunity for you."

"How so?" Barry inquired.

"Becky can be your practice run," Caitlin explained. "That way, if you ever do go out with someone you actually like, you'll already have some prior experience and know what to do and what not to do. Can you imagine if the first time you went out with someone you care about, you blew it in an absolutely hilarious and humiliating way?"

"Please," Cisco said with a grin. "Anyone who was brave enough to date him would probably be well-aware of all his idiosyncrasies. No offense, Barry, but your life is just a series of awkward and humiliating moments separated by snacks and a coma."

"Gee, thanks," Barry deadpanned. "I feel so lucky to have friends like you, who support me every step of the way and never bring me down."

"You're welcome!"

"That was sarcasm."

"I know."

* * *

Leonardo Antonelli was one of the major mob bosses in Central City. A classic rags-to-riches story let him rise to the top of the food chain from absolute poverty. Whereas he was once begging on the streets for scraps, now he was drinking only the finest of aged wine on a daily basis. His methods may be uncouth and highly illegal, but when had following the rules ever helped anyone? While he was, technically, under the employment of an even greater criminal, that criminal was in jail on the other side of the continent, and would be for a long time. He stayed in contact, but he was no man's minion now. Not for a while yet.

He was very fond of his position; he was constantly on watch for any who might threaten his position. Unlike the other old families who ran the town's underground, he worked for his power and wasn't about to lose it. Anyone with even the potential of usurping his power he either made a loyal minion, or would slaughter gleefully, sometimes with his bare hands, other times he would send his dear band of assassins to deal with the problem.

But never before had someone raided his base of operations without a moment's hesitation, barrelling through the complex at breath taking speeds and completely incapacitating his entire army.

The yellow-suited man didn't kill anyone, though. But it wasn't because he was too righteous- a single look in those blood red eyes would prove that. The man was a killer, and while he didn't do it for the thrill of killing, he would rather kill a nuisance than continue to deal with it for even a second longer than necessary.

That meant that the man wanted something that he could provide. Something that would require his men, and as he didn't know how skilled each individual was, how important they were to the crime syndicate, he wouldn't want to risk anything that could potentially jeopardise his demands.

Pushing down his anger and annoyance at having his men so easily incapacitated, Leonardo flashed his visitor a toothy, shark-like smile. "Welcome, visitor. While I must admit I've never seen someone take down my men so quickly, and with such ruthless efficiency, I must commend your efforts."

The yellow man stood there, silent, blurring so fast Leonardo's eyes couldn't focus on any particular details despite the man standing in one place.

"I'd assume that, since you have yet to kill me or my men, that you're not here to give a warning or exact revenge. Might I assume you require my assistance?"

" **Indeed."** The man spoke, using a downright demonic voice that made Leonardo shiver. What was he dealing with here? Was the man even a man, or something more supernatural in nature?

 **"Surely by now you've heard of the young vigilante roaming the streets, by now."**

Leonardo's eyes narrowed and he forgot himself for a moment, letting out a snarl. "Of course, I've heard of that brat- he's been destroying my operations for a good few weeks, now! Is he yours, by any chance? You do share a very similar power set, from what I can see."

 **"Do not presume!"** the figure said, offended. " **I am** **nothing** **like The Flash- I'm his complete** **opposite** **! Our powers are all that we have in common! He is, and always will be, my enemy.** "

Leonardo grinned predatorily. This man, while clearly powerful, was prone to having his emotions dictating his actions. He could soothe his temper, cool his fury enough to concoct a great plan and even fool the untrained eye, but he had trained his from birth, out of necessity. This man was ultimately ruled by his emotions. Apart from that, he'd also just gained more information out of the man- a name for the child to go by. "I see, so you're here to cooperate with my group to get rid of the little… pest problem."

 **"No. I have use for him yet. For now, I wish to further my own goals regarding that boy, with your help."**

"Do you have want for an apprentice then?" Leonardo inquired. "Or do you know who he truly is and wish to manipulate him, driving him to his eventual, slow destruction."

The figure smirked as Leonardo finished his later sentence, and Leonardo knew he struck gold with this man. "Very well, then. Within reason, I shall agree to help you in your endeavours," he agreed. "What do you expect me to do?"

 **"There's a pawn I wish to use in Iron Heights to draw our opponent out. Perhaps you have heard of him. He led a very successful crime spree a few years prior, before being captured by the police in a moment of foolishness. His name is James Jesse, though he refers to himself as The Trickster."**

* * *

 **A/N: Well, that was a nice change of pace from last chapter!**

 **Firstly, I would like to thank my new beta reader, ParradoxUniverse! If you're reading this, thank you so much! You rock dude!**

 **Secondly, I hope you've all enjoyed watching me torment poor Barry! In my defence, they did throw that one-liner about Becky in the show so... yeah.**

 **Honestly, I think I'll take any excuse at this point.**

 **Thirdly, I would like to once again congratulate Superheros17 for being an avid reader and reviewer! This chapter was dedicated to both him for being the QOTC 3 times, and to the amazing ParradoxUniverse, for previously mentioned reasons!**

 **Now, it's time for that moment we've all been waiting for, the QOTC!**

 **Congratulations to last chapter's winner; 'that guy', a guest reviewer! Congratulations!**

 **For this week's QOTC... hmm...**

 **Who is Cobalt Blue?**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**


	12. Chapter 12- Dating for Dummies

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life's just gotten a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry.

 **Beta Reader: ParradoxUniverse (Current not beta read)**

 **Created: 07/05/17**

 **Modified: 07/05/17, 08/05/17, 09/05/17, 11/05/17, 14/05/17, 17/04/17, 18/05/17, 20/05/17**

 **Total word count: 3461**

 **Published: 04/06/17**

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 12- Dating for Dummies**

 **By SilentEevee**

* * *

James Jesse sat comfortably in his prison cell, watching the latest episode of Breaking Bad.

It wasn't the greatest gig he could have- he knew he'd much rather be out in the world, creating glorious havoc. He had _so many_ great pranks planned. None as good as his _greatest_ prank, but that one would have to wait a few years yet. His son was still far, far too young to carry out this level of madness. He was raw, untrained- there was a bigger chance he'd botch it up, and bring James back to square one, dragging himself along with him.

Nevertheless, while he wasn't _happy_ with his accommodations, he was content. Unlike all the other, boring prisoners in Iron Heights, he had a cell all to himself after he'd murdered his last three roommates. It wasn't his fault! Not really- they were just so _annoying_ ; boring, big and bigoted, thinking that just because they were more muscular that gave them superiority over him. It was funny, really.

Apart from that, while the others all slaved away doing menial tasks and ate the most disgusting foods the prison could cook up, he got to enjoy himself in his cell, watching free television, often even receiving candy apart from his usual, far tastier dinner. His cell was also _much_ larger and more comfortable than that of the others- it had to be; it was part of the agreement he and the Warden had so that he'd stop killing all his uptight guards.

Why didn't everyone do this? All they had to do was go on a little killing spree and terrify the guards, and they'd be living the good life. True, he couldn't exactly roam freely, and his pranks were unfortunately on hold until he could figure out how to properly break out of here without having a ten year old come break him out, but all in all it was a good life.

He'd have to do something remarkable soon, however. The guards had grown complacent, lately. They thought they were safe with the agreement, and were getting rougher with him. They tried to appease him less. Unacceptable.

He needed something _big_ to return to his former power. Something that would put him in the history books, ranking him in infamy along the legends; Bonnie and Clyde, Jesse James, Butch Cassidy! Something that would finally stop people from comparing him to the Clown Prince of Crime staking up a claim in Gotham! He played _pranks_ , but he wasn't a comedian! There was a difference!

It was during his absent minded contemplation that opportunity struck.

Gunshots echoed throughout the prison hallway, and the tell-tale _squelch_ of somebody kicking somebody's skull in could be heard just beyond the doors.

James grinned. Either someone was here to try to kill him after years of planning revenge, or someone required his services and wished to spring him. Either way, he was in for an exciting time.

The door swung open, and a small group of unmasked knife-wielding warriors entered the room. James recognised the group for what they were from their behaviour alone; the lack of a mask showed that they didn't fear being found, and the unusual weapons they weld was the second clue. Their body language was the most obvious, of course.

They were assassins. Probably not from the League of Shadows, but obviously skilled.

"Are you here to kill me, perhaps?"

"As tempting as that may be," the lead woman sneered, "I'm afraid we have orders to bring you in alive. Our employer demands your assistance. Failure, however, will result in your death."

James raised his hands amicably. "Relax, boys, _relax_. No need to threaten me- I would love nothing more than to come with you. It has been _far_ too long since chaos had a chance to reign in this city. Is this going to be a temporary breakout, or do I receive full freedom after I finish this job?"

"We're not bringing you back here, but if you get caught, you're on your own. This is a once in a lifetime exception," a man guarding the door said stoically.

"Perfect," James said, a sinister smirk on his face.

After ten long years, it was time for Central City to rediscover the Wrath of the Trickster.

* * *

"I think it's a question of the frying pan or the fire, at this point," Dr. Henry Allen advised his son during one of his monthly visits. Despite the fact that Joe believed him to be guilty, despite the fact that Joe greatly disapproved of him going to visit whom he believed to be a murderer, Barry still made sure to keep to his schedule. In all the years Henry had been there, Barry had only missed three scheduled visits, two of which had been spent in that horrific coma, and the last of which had occurred when Barry was too ill to leave the house. And even that had brought with it many protests on Barry's part.

His son, the only light in his unjust world, the one person who made life worth living and who he'd give his life to protect, moaned at his answer. "I was afraid you'd say that," he said in disappointment.

Henry chuckled lowly to himself. Despite everything that he'd gone through these past few years, Barry still dealt with the same woes all teenage boys would face. "Sorry, son, but what did you expect? You should have backed out of the conversation the minute it turned in this direction."

"Believe me, I tried," Barry protested. "But it's like Iris latched on and wouldn't let go, and at that point I was barely coherent enough to stutter, let alone voice a reasonable argument."

"When are you supposed to meet up?" Dr. Allen asked.

"This Saturday, but of course I can't think up a reasonable excuse not to go. Iris is doing everything in her power to prevent me from chickening out, short of her actually dragging me to Becky's house and supervising the entire ordeal."

"That's unfortunate," he noted. "Barry… you love science, so tell me this; which is the best way to find an accurate theory; working your way back from a conclusion, or gathering the variables, making a hypothesis and checking to see if it matches up to your observations?"

"The latter, of course," Barry answered immediately. "If you work your way up from a conclusion, you're just looking for a confirmation bias at that point instead of doing real science. But what does that have to do with me?"

"You're going into this situation with an unfounded idea on how it's going to conclude," The doctor pointed out, and Barry nodded in understanding. "You said it yourself; if you enter a situation close-minded, you're just going to be looking for things to prove your idea of how it should play out, rather than keeping an eye out for the good things the situation brings along with it. Who knows? You might even enjoy it, and learn something about yourself along the way."

"And if I'm right?" Barry inquired. "If the date falls flat and one, or both of us, end up regretting the entire night?"

Henry sighed. "If that's the case, then there's two ways it could play out. Either you both decide that it's best if you stop seeing each other and forcing something that's not meant to be into existence. Or else, you nip it at the bud and break it off gently and quickly before either one could form too many attachments and expectations. But the important thing is to be sincere; the last thing you want, especially considering how fast word travels in high school, is to be caught in a web of lies."

* * *

"Barry, come on! Ugh, you're so _slow_! We're burning daylight over here!"

Barry Allen saw himself as made from durable stuff. He could handle a lot of things. He was a speedster, a vigilante, and he'd been witness to more emotional trauma than any kid his age had any right to be. He'd been struck by lightning, could travel faster than sound, been held hostage, fought off not one, but _two_ genuine proto-supervillains and so many vanilla criminals he'd lost count at this point, if he'd ever kept count in the first place. But he might've actually met his match with his newest foe and greatest foe.

Iris West on a shopping spree.

" _Barry Allen! You get over here, right now! I'm not leaving this mall until we have something_ presentable _for you to wear on your date! This could be one of the most important moments of your life, for crying out loud!"_

Well, he certainly felt like crying, but for completely different reasons.

"Coming!" he called out with a groan as he stood up from his area of repose- the mall's comfortable black couches. Wasn't the point of the shopping spree for _him_ to get some appropriate clothing? Why was he stuck carrying… currently six different shopping bags… when his own purchased clothing only filled one? And that's not even counting the fact that around a quarter of it had been taken up by hair products Iris deemed necessary after bearing witness to more than one instance where his hair blurred the line into haystack territory after particularly long runs.

Come to think of it, how many outfits did he really _need_? Sure, if this ended up spiralling into a serious relationship he'd need a larger amount, but it was hardly guaranteed, at this point!

He sighed, and dragged the intense load to the latest store Iris had run into. It wasn't as though he'd ever voice his protests, not to Iris, and there was no way he'd draw any more attention to himself by arguing. He didn't want to chance that someone from school would see him act as a human pack mule.

When he'd finally lugged the enormous load to where Iris was, she'd taken one look at him, shoved what must have been five different yet ridiculously similar tops.

"Here, go try these on and give me a call when you're done, I want to have the final verdict," she said, then started off to an entirely different store.

"Wha- hey! Where are you going?" he protested as she left.

"You need some better shoes, don't you?" she called back without stopping or turning. "I'm not letting you out of the house next Saturday in _sneakers_ , God!"

"Yikes, possessive, much?" someone behind him called.

Barry turned around with a start, trying to delay the inevitable fate for as long as possible. "She's… uh… yeah, pretty much. She means well, though."

"Let me guess," the teenager who appeared to be maybe a year younger than him commented. "Your girlfriend doesn't trust you enough to let you out of the house on your own? Is she worried that someone'll persuade you to cheat on her, or because you don't really have a taste for 'fashion', whatever that means nowadays?"

Barry's face bled red in embarrassment. "She's not… Iris isn't… She's not my girlfriend."

"Really?" he inquired, an eyebrow raised.

Barry winced. "She's uh… she's my sister. Foster sister, I mean."

The teenager nodded in sympathy. "Ah, sorry for your loss, then," he said.

"Loss?" Barry inquired, glancing at the boy. "What makes you think that it wasn't my family that took her in? You're not wrong, but…"

"It's… something in your eyes, I guess. You look older than I'd think you were at first glance. More… hardened than normal teens."

Barry hummed. "Takes one to know one, then?"

The teen sighed softly. "Yeah, I guess. My family just moved here recently- my dad came back from his tour with the Marines and wanted a change of scenery. It's… not exactly the most stable home life. To be fair, it wasn't even before he ran off to fight for our country. Enough about me, though. I probably shouldn't delay you too much. Your sister might get annoyed."

Barry winced. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to sneak me out of here, do you?"

He laughed. "And incur your foster sister's fury upon me? You seem cool, dude, but no thank you."

Barry shrugged. "Worth a shot. See you around, then?"

He nodded. "Sure, you seem cool. Care to give me a name? I can't just keep calling you 'The Whipped Kid' in my head all the time, y'know."

Barry snorted but didn't deny his claim and extended his arm as the other clasped his in a firm handshake. "The name's Barry. Barry Allen."

The younger teen grinned. "Hunter Zolomon."

* * *

Barry tried to calm his nerves as he paced in front of Becky Cooper's house.

Why was he even so nervous? He didn't even like Becky- he liked Iris! Why did he care so much about making a first impression? Surely, the flowers were a bit excessive. This was supposed to be an _experiment_ ; sure, he had to put the initiative in and attempt to have a nice night to the best of his abilities, but it wasn't like there were any serious stakes here, besides perhaps tarnishing his already piss-poor social standing further.

He shouldn't even be here. He ended up where he was because of his deceit and lies; had he just told his friends what was going on, Iris wouldn't have been so determined to set him up with the girl she believed him to be crushing on. Even if things went well, which he highly doubted, did he really want his first relationship to be built on _that_ as a foundation? He'd only end up hurting her, either because he still didn't like her that way at the end of the night or when she'd end up discovering exactly how he ended up asking her out. And she would find out, if that were the case; he was horrible at keeping secrets. His current situation was proof enough of that.

Maybe he should just back out right now- he could run back home in a second's notice, call in sick and tell them to reschedule, or even put it off indefinitely to focus on school work, or whatever, then go out and patrol for the rest of the night. He could tell Iris that he'd gone to Becky's place- technically not a lie, if he didn't mention that he didn't actually go _in_ her house- but tell her things didn't work out. She'd be… either disappointed or happy, depending on whether her disdain for Becky was greater than her wish for Barry to socialise more, but she'd accept it. There was nothing wrong with two people not having a spark, no reason for Iris to be upset with Becky enough to go confront her about it. It was the perfect plan, provided he broke it to Becky easily enough.

Then again… he'd still be hurting Becky this way. She'd probably gotten her hopes up, and if she really was interested in him then she'd have to be really excited about tonight. Did he really want to crush that happiness?

The answer was a resounding 'No'.

Plucking up the courage that let him face off against the likes of supervillains, he tried to project an air of confidence as he walked up to Becky's door.

When he laid eyes on Becky, however, he looked like someone had just slapped him with a fish.

Becky, while always easy on the eyes, had never appeared extraordinarily beautiful. She was above average, sure, and it wasn't the first time someone'd spared more than a second glance at her, but she wasn't going to be winning any beauty pageants anytime soon.

Now, though? Now that she was dolled up in a bright red knee-length dress, with a light layer of make-up to smooth over any facial imperfections, and newly-cut wavy long red hair, she looked positively _stunning._

Her laughter was also pleasant to the ear, as he found out soon after Becky had opened the door.

"Finally," she'd said, while Barry struggled to get over his shock. "I'd heard you pacing out here for so long I'd thought I'd have to drag you in myself. Nice suit, by the way. It looks really good on you and hugs the figure quite nicely, if I may say so myself."

"Uh, thank you," he somehow managed to speak after a moment to absorb what she'd said. "You look… _really_ nice. I just… wow."

Becky snorted. "Thanks. You're not very experienced in dating, are you?"

Barry winced slightly. "Uh… no. This is my first one, actually. Is it that obvious?"

"Kind of, yeah. Your vocabulary seems to have gotten lost on the way here," she joked, before realising something. "Wait, does this mean I get the pleasure of breaking you in?"

Barry blushed slightly.

Becky grinned. "Oh, yeah, this is going to be fun."

* * *

"No way. There is absolutely _no fucking way_ I am agreeing to this."

" _Cisco! Please!"_ Iris stressed.

"I'm not going to sit here and be _tech support_ while you go track down genuine _superheroes._ "

Caitlin ran a hand through her hair. "Cisco, please try and see reason here," she begged. "You're the best one of us here when it comes to tech- I'm better with the biological stuff, and we both know it."

Cisco rolled his eyes. "I know that, Cait, but flattery will get you nowhere."

Caitlin pinched her nose in annoyance. "Then you understand why you have to stay here and _help us with the actual tracking._ "

"No. I don't."

" _Cisco!"_

" _Iris!_ Come on, this way my idea, wasn't it? If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even be thinking about going out there! I deserve at least _some_ of the action! Why don't _you_ stay here and handle the tech?"

Iris raised a sceptical eyebrow. "You'd trust me with your precious tech? Really?"

"…Yeah, fair point. Caitlin, you stay here."

"What the- why do you trust her with it and not me?" Iris asked, slightly put out.

"I don't. But she picks up on things quicker and has a better chance of retaining the information. Well, Cait? What say you?"

Caitlin turned to her friend in annoyance. "Are you _really_ going to make me do this, Cisco?"

"Well _someone_ has to point the rest of the team in the right direction, but not me. Not this time. Besides, it's better if at least _one_ of you knows what to do in case I'm ever indisposed of. Like, I'd want you guys to know how to track me down if I get kidnapped, or something."

"Not that I'm not saying you have a point," Iris began, "but why do you even know how to do this in the first place? Who'd you even get kidnapped by? The only enemies you have I can think of are Tony's crew, who share about one brain cell between the lot of them and can't even fathom the notion of coming up with a scheme the police wouldn't be able to solve, or Ms. Lee who just hates the fact that you keep showing her up in class."

"Well, yeah, _for now._ But this is, like, preparation for the future. In about twenty years I'm going to have my plate full making groundbreaking technological advancements while fending off Russian and Chinese spies-"

"Russian spies?" Iris whispered to Caitlin in incredulity.

"Just go with it," she whispered back. "The sheer number of spy movies he's seen messed with his idea of reality."

"Ah,"

"-so I figured it's best if I learn it now, at my own leisure, rather than have trouble when I'm, say, about to be thrown off a plane, or something," Cisco rambled on, not noticing the amusement his friends were feeling. "Besides, there is literally _no reason_ not to know how to defuse a bomb."

"Sure, Cisco," Iris humoured. "We get it."

"So then you'll let me go out in the field?" Cisco asked hopefully. As Cisco turned a full-force version of the puppy eyes on them, Caitlin felt her resolve crack.

"Ugh, fine, okay. Just this one time. I'll man the stupid satellite."

"…Where'd you even learn to hack a satellite, let alone a government one?" Iris asked as Cisco cheered in victory.

"Uhh…" Cisco froze. "I'm… not supposed to tell anyone about them."

"Them?" Caitlin raised a disapproving eyebrow. "Cisco. Have you been getting hacking tips from an illegal hacking community?"

"No!" Cisco immediately protested. " They're not _criminals._ They're activists! Who just… happen to take a more… direct approach to dealing with the failings of the law."

Iris and Caitlin stared in disbelief. "Sorry, my mistake," Caitlin corrected. "A _vigilante_ hacking group."

"They call themselves hacktivists _,_ " Cisco offered weakly.

" _Cisco!"_

* * *

 **A/N: So sorry for the long wait! I'd sent this to my beta reader after I first finished it, but ParradoxUniverse was on vacation and unable to proof read. And to be honest, I'm not surprised that she hasn't responded to my PMs yet either- exams are almost upon us, and all. They're partially why I have yet to finish Chapter 13, despite the long time I had to write it. Publishing chapters will probably take a lot longer this month due to this. Never fear, though! I'll make up for it in summer time ;)**

 **Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed today's chapter, and the little Zoom tease! I'm planning on going down the Zoom route, but I have other plans for Arc 2... and 3 and 4. So Zoom will probably turn up around Arc 5, to be honest. Yes, I know it's a long wait, but I've got absolutely AWESOME plans for Arc 4 and Arc 3 is rather short.**

 **And since I've gotten a number of people asking me this; this story is SNOWBARRY. I personally dislike OCs, and considering Becky Cooper hasn't been mentioned in the show besides by name, I consider it as close to an OC as I can get without actually having an OC. She won't be around for long, but she's semi-important to the romantic subplot.**

 **And since you people are so eager to know, the SnowBarry arc starts in Arc 3. No, the arc is not dedicated to romance, but certain events do bring the two together. That's all I'll bother saying about it.**

 **And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for; the QOTC!**

 **Last chapter's winner was Chi Ikeo! If I'm not mistaken, this is your first time winning QOTC, and the question was something a comic fan would know, so super congratulations from me!**

 **Finally, this week's QOTC;**

 **Why can't psychics read Barry's mind in the comics?**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**


	13. Chapter 13- Tricks of the Trade

**Title:** The Trials of a Teenage Speedster

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life's just gotten a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry.

 **Beta Reader: ForteOfTheBallad98**

 **Created: 23/05/17**

 **Modified: 24/05/17, 27/05/17, 05/06/17**

 **Total word count: 4692**

 **Published: 10/06/17**

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 13- Tricks of the Trade**

 **By SilentEevee**

* * *

"Wait, wait, so you're telling me that you work with one of the world's leading scientist as his assistant-"

"-intern-"

"-Same difference. But the point- you have an in with Doctor Harrison Wells, and you didn't scream it out for the world to hear? I'd love to see Ms. Lee's face if she ever found out!"

Barry chuckled at the idea. "Yeah, Ms. Lee's kinda…" he trailed off, unable to find the correct words to describe the situation.

"A bitter, envious, hypocritical bitch that enjoys torturing students just because she was too much of a loser to get off her damn ass and actually work to achieve her dream?"

"…Well I wouldn't have put it quite like that."

Becky raised an eyebrow as she took another sip of her smoothie. "Am I wrong, though?"

"I really want to say no right now, but I won't."

Becky rolled her eyes, though they shined with mirth. "You're way too nice for your own good."

"Thanks… I think. So how do you know about my boss, anyway? Most of the kids at school couldn't name two modern scientists, despite living in the same city as one. No offense, but you don't really strike me as the science type."

"None taking, I'm more into art and photography, to be perfectly honest," she commented, taking another sip of her drink. "But my cousin works at Luthorcorp- he likes to pretend he has an in with Lex Luthor, but he's one of those scientist drones he has working on whatever weapons technology Lex plans on selling to the military that year. Anyway, he's an selfish, arrogant ass and a kiss-up, but if there's one redeeming quality about him, it's his passion for science. Our parents are kind of close, so he comes over around once a month. Most of the stuff he talks about goes way over my head, but occasionally he brings home some of the most amazing photos of whatever research the Luthorcorp scientists are working on, even if it's not in his division. Like, last time he brought home a photo from an atomic microscope. It doesn't look exactly like we see them in class because we can't zoom in that closely, but it's still pretty cool."

Barry quirked his eyebrow. "That sounds cool. But what does that have to do with Dr. Harrison Wells?"

"Absolutely everything," Becky commented. "Luthor has this ego problem, apparently. He's a genius, and doesn't take being outshined very well. He has this sort of rivalry going on with Dr. Wells- it's rather one-sided, because apparently Dr. Wells is vastly more intelligent when it comes to science and makes scientific discoveries every other month. My cousin likes to complain about him a lot, though, because he makes Lex irritable. And that means he's cool in my book. So what about you, though? What got you into science, and what's it like working for him?"

"What are you, some sort of Luthorcorp spy?" he said, giving her a faux-suspicious glare. "I can't divulge company secrets."

"As though I would even understand it, "she scoffed.

"Don't sell yourself short, you're smarter than you think," he said with a grin.

"Oh?" she queried. "How so?"

"I mean, you chose to go out with me," he joked, making dramatic hand gestures to add to the effect. "That has to count for something, right?"

Becky snorted. "Uh huh, sure, if you say so."

* * *

"Sable to Matrix, any luck with the satellite? Over."

Caitlin sighed as the voice filtered in through the computer in her room. "Cisco, really?"

"It's not Cisco, it's Sable! And you didn't say 'Over'! Over."

"You're being childish."

"Can you just play along? Seriously, how often do I get to do spy stuff? Don't spoil the fun! Maybe your codename should be Spoiler instead. Over."

"Cisco-"

"Will you two just stop fighting so we can do what we came to do?" Iris snapped. "Over."

"You owe me bigtime for this, Sable. Seriously. Over."

"Victory!" Cisco cried. "Thanks Thistle. Over."

"But seriously, did you find anything on the satellite?" Iris asked, and as an afterthought added "Over."

"Nada. Either he's not fast enough for the satellite to pick up on, which is unlikely, the satellite is defective, also unlikely, I'm doing something wrong, which is slightly more likely, or Flash-"

She briefly paused while the sound of Cisco clearing his throat poured out of her speakers.

"-fine, Cheetah, whatever. As I was saying, Cheetah might not even be out tonight, which is the most likely scenario I can come up with," Caitlin summed up. "Also, Cis-Sable, why are we even giving Cheetah his nickname? Didn't you also dub him 'Flash'? No one else knows who you're talking about. What exactly is the point-"

"Matrix!" Cisco interrupted. "Seriously, focus on the mission! Over."

"Oh that's rich-"

"You two, seriously!" Iris complained. "Can you not argue over the comm. device Sable's friends gave him? I'm trying to be sneaky, here! Over."

"Fine, fine, we'll give it a rest Thistle. What do you think, anyway? How likely is it that Cheetah decided to sit this one out?" Cisco asked. "Over."

"Well, according to my sources, which may or may not be a slightly suspicious father who thinks I'm considering taking up journalism, armed crime rates have significantly dropped. Between the suspicious inactivity of one of the largest criminal enterprises in Central City, the fact that Flash rumours are circling in the underground, even if Dad doesn't believe it himself, and the fact that no one wants to risk himself now that James Jesse is out of jail and 'Captain Cold' broke Heatwave out of Iron Heights soon after, it's really not that mind boggling. Over."

"Wow, Thistle. Your dad's a really good source," Cisco commented. "Over."

Iris hummed noncommittally into the phone.

"So what do you guys think?" Caitlin asked. "It's around 9 o'clock, or 8.47, if you want to be exact. Should we turn in?"

"What? No!" Cisco whined. "Cait, that's still super early! Besides, I highly doubt a crime fighter's going to turn in when crime actually starts gaining traction! Maybe he's just running late. Heh, get it, running? Over."

"Yes, Cisco, we get it," Iris drawled. "If it's worth any consideration, my opinion is that we should stay for another hour or two. I mean, we can only do this when Barry, Dad and Ca-Matrix's mom are otherwise occupied, and how often does that happen? Over."

"Fair point," Caitlin conceded. "How's it looking over there, anyway?"

"Well, I can't exactly see any more than a few blocks away," Iris said as she leaned over the railing of the roof she'd snuck up to. "And no, Sable, I'm not wearing those binoculars because they look ridiculous, but I don't see anything out of the ordinary here, except maybe what looks like some kids from our school buying pot… I think that's Brad over there, that bastard, but I can't be sure. Should I call Dad on this? Over."

"Negative, Thistle," Cisco commented. "You'll generate suspicion from your father, who, need I remind you, thinks you're at my house. Matrix, can you leave an anonymous message at the station? Over."

"Already on it. Oh, and uh, Thistle? You might want to clear the area considering you're really close to the station and I just left the description as 'some younglings doing drugs'. Over."

"Younglings?" Cisco laughed.

"I was trying to make it look like I was an old person, okay!" Caitlin defended. "Over."

"Uh, no. You sound like a Wookie. Over."

"Buzz off. Oh, Thistle? You might want to duck and cover- the cops are almost there so don't draw attention to yourself. Over."

"'Kay. So please be quiet," Iris stressed as she ducked behind the concrete railing. "Shit, I think Dad's on the response team. Over."

"Right, I think it's best if you disconnect for now," Caitlin commented. "Over."

"What? No!" Cisco protested. "She'll need to be connected in case we find something. Just sit there and listen, and turn the volume way down, but don't talk, okay? Over."

"Sure, Sable," she whispered.

"… she didn't say 'Over'-"

"-Cisco!"

"Fine, fine, I'll drop it. Ove- hey, hey guys I think I see something."

"Really?" Caitlin asked. "What's going on?"

"…Is there anything big going on at Central City Picture News? Over."

"You're at CCPN?" asked Caitlin.

"No, I'm near this expensive hotel near the centre of town, and it has signs all over the place saying who whatever event they have was hosted by. Over."

"Why? Aren't you supposed to be moving away from the city centre towards the outskirts? Over."

"… I got hungry. There's a Big Belly Burger nearby and-"

He could practically feel Caitlin's disapproving glare. "And, uh, I did a bad thing? But look, I found something suspicious! So could you maybe send me the info? Over"

Caitlin sighed over the phone. "Yeah, sure," she said as she began searching the web. "Oh! Here's something- there's an event starting at 10; charity event hosted by some small charity- I've never really heard of 'The People against Child Abuse'. They're raising money for child abuse victims, if it isn't obvious. Their goal is around $100,000… which admittedly isn't all that much for a charity event, but meh, what're you going to do?"

"Damn," Cisco swore. "Matrix, something really fishy is going on here- there's a guy dressed in a multi-coloured tuxedo shoving a gun in a rubber chicken. Over."

"…Clown act gone bad?"

"Maybe…" Cisco mused as he peered through his Star Trek binoculars. "If I describe him to you, do you think you could check the police database for me? Over."

"Police database?" Caitlin, and surprisingly Iris, hissed out. "Cisco, you hacked into the police database?"

"My dad is so going to kill you if he finds out, and then he'll do the same to me for agreeing to help you," Iris whispered. Despite it not being her intent, it made her sound menacing, despite the fact that she was doing it not to speak too loudly and draw attention.

"Guys, please!" Cisco commented. "We did end up needing it, didn't we?"

Caitlin and Iris remained surprisingly silent.

"…Cait?" he asked, not bothering to risk calling her by her codename.

"Fine. Just. Just describe him before I decide to walk out."

Cisco sighed in relief. "Okay, okay so he's old, like… I'd say 65-70, that sort of range. He's got this really ruffled blond hair and I think hazel eyes? Or maybe blue? He's… handling a ton of weapons- are those marbles? And… is that a banana? Okay, this man is crazy!"

"Cisco…" Caitlin commented as she pulled out the list of recent Iron Heights escapees.

"He's shoving dynamite in a banana peel, Caitlin! A banana peel! And he's taping it shut, but he's letting the wick- do you call it a wick? Whatever- he's letting the wick poke out. And… what the heck? Okay, I don't even want to know what that green stuff he's pouring into that toy gun is, but I'm guessing it's not good."

"Cisco, you need to get out of there, now!"

"Wanna fill me in on what's going on?" Cisco asked warily, slowly looking for the fire escape he'd climbed up in.

"That man is James Jesse, nicknamed The Trickster way back when-"

"-That's a horrible nickname-"

"…He'd co-ordinated a series of prank-like terrorist attacks around 20 years ago, and he was recently broken out of jail. He was responsible for over 100 deaths, over 500 injured, some of which are still suffering its effects today, and he doesn't discriminate between victims, not even by age. In fact, I'd almost say he'd prefer targeting minors. That makes you a fair target, as far as he's concerned."

"But Cait-"

"Just go!" Iris exclaimed.

Cisco stared at the madmen preparing even more weapons.

"I'm not going anywhere near CCPN."

"Thank God!"

"At least you have some semblance of common sense."

"But I'm not leaving this roof either."

"What?" They both demanded.

"Cait, this could be our chance-"

"Cisco, listen, and listen closely," Iris growled. "You are getting off that roof. You're going to go straight to my house, and when I'm done here you and I are going to have a talk about safety, got it?"

Cisco said nothing for a moment before- "Khh! Khh! I'm sorry what? You- Khh! You're breaking up; I can't he-KHH!"

"Cisco!" Caitlin yelled in outrage. "Don't you even think-"

"I'm s—ry! I can't KHHHH you! I'll talk to KHHHH! Later, yeah?"

"Don't you dare hang up-"

Beeep!

Cisco sighed as he disconnected his comm. system. "Damn it. I am sooo dead. Cait's going to kill me and Iris is going to make sure my last moments on earth are absolute agony."

"In my experience, it's best not to antagonise those sorts of woman. Trust me when I say it can be painful."

"You!" Cisco said, turning to face the older man so quickly it was amazing he didn't give himself whiplash. "What the hell are you doing here? Hoping to finish what you started?"

Snart chuckled. "Geez, kid. You've got guts, mouthing off against a guy who held you hostage. If you must know, my partner and I are here after an… investment."

Cisco's eyes widened. "You're after the charity money? Seriously? That's low. That's very, very low, Captain Cold. It's one thing to steal from a bank, or hold a scientist hostage. But stealing from abused kids?"

Snart rolled his eyes. "Nice nickname. I may have to use that sometimes. But seriously, don't judge someone before you know their motives, kid. I'm not judging you for your little escapade, so don't judge me."

"Don't judge… YOU'RE GOING TO –"

Snart closed the distance between them with remarkable speed and clamped a hand firmly on Cisco's mouth. "Pipe down!" he growled. "You'll attract attention, you utter idiot!"

"Good, then," Cisco stated after Snart removed his hand. "What the hell did you even bother coming here for? If you're trying to break into the charity event, you've got competition. If you're planning to kidnap me, you shouldn't have announced yourself. I wouldn't have noticed you. Actually, that holds true for the former, too. You're slacking, Snart."

"Have you ever considered," Snart asked. "That I actually have a reason for contacting you?"

"'Contacting me'? You knew I was going to be here?" Cisco demanded.

"You've been going around the city, thinking you're some sort of James Bond-type, practically announcing to listening ears that you're looking for the 'Flash'," Snart deadpanned. "Obviously, the entire criminal underground's been listening in on your activities. You should thank me for that, by the way- you've been trailed by at least three different mafia groups that are… ahem… burning the wind, so to speak, curtesy of my partner."

Cisco's eyes widened. "Oh, no. No way am I helping the guy who held me hostage find and kill the guy who rescued me."

"Will you stop making assumptions?" Snart snapped. "It's not about the speedster this time! In fact, I'd rather he simply not show up. Believe it or not, Trickster actually has a method to his madness, on occasion. His main goal is to cause chaos, yes, but more often than not he tends to prefer going after the corrupt businesses and politicians, despite it being for less than benevolent motives. He's absolutely bat shit crazy, and often innocent people, even children, bear the consequences for that, and he's done things that will never and shouldn't be forgiven for the sake of chaos, but he has his uses."

"Corrupt businesses?" Cisco asked incredulously. "This is a charity event!"

"Yes, but how much of that money do you think is actually going to needy children?" Snart demanded. "I've been in their position. This charity's been around for almost 40 years, and my sister and I have never received any sort of help- it's what made us turn to crime in the first place, before we realised how good we were at it and running circles around the fucking cops. But they make monthly galas, and the like. They deliver the absolute minimum amount to keep them from getting investigated, a few hundred here and there, while the managing staff is living the high life by pouring money into their 'daytime businesses' to expand it and making a living that way. They get a humanitarian reputation for their business, especially when they say that some of the profits go to the needy, but at the end of the day all they're helping are themselves!"

"Why should I believe you?" Cisco spat out.

"You have no reason to," Snart agreed. "But then, there's always the chance that I'm telling the truth, even if it's rather unlikely. And if that's the case, you're passing up the opportunity to help me prevent Trickster from going too crazy tonight, while taking down an immoral organisation.

"Nothing I say will convince you at this point; you've made up your mind to hate me, which I suppose is understandable," Snart reasoned. "So it's up to you whether or not you wish to take that risk."

Cisco stood silent for a moment, before making up his mind. "No."

"Really, now?" Snart asked in surprise.

"No way I'm trusting you- you're a thief and a murderer, so why shouldn't you be a liar too? It makes more sense that what you're saying! A terrorist being an anti-hero? What do you think I am, stupid?"

Snart shrugged. "Well, I can't say I'm not disappointed in you, Ramon, but suit yourself, I guess," he said, unsheathing his Cold Gun and pulling up his winter hood.

"Whoa, whoa, let's not get crazy here," Cisco commented, backing away slowly with his hands raised in a placating gesture.

"It's not for you," Captain Cold commented with a glare. "I have no intention of harming you. I don't need any more heat from the police."

"But… I know your plan," Cisco objected in confusion. "And I can easily call the police and why the hell am I pointing this out?"

Captain Cold barked out a short laugh. "Nice, kid, very professional. Go ahead and call the police if you want; they'll end up coming here anyway, and by then it'll be too late. But let me just point out one thing- Trickster over there? He's going to take hostages- I've studied his style. The police? They're useless when it comes to taking down men like him. They're more likely to become hostages themselves. You want to know how they caught him last time, kid? They didn't."

"What?" Cisco asked. "What do you mean 'they didn't'? You expect me to believe that he turned himself in?"

"You think this Flash character is something new?" he asked in disbelief. "Well I hate to burst your bubble, but the criminal underworld dealt with 'Flash' before. He popped up 30 years ago, I believe. The guys back then didn't have a name for him, so they called him the 'Crimson Comet'- he'd take down men before the cops even knew what happened; every now and then there'd be a rookie who'd take credit for bringing the men down, and the cops never believed the outlandish stories, chalking it up to madness spreading urban legends. But he was real, oh so very real- entire crime families were taken down. Why do you think Central City, one of the largest cities in Missouri, has such a low crime rate compared to other equally large cities, like Metropolis, or Gotham, Fawcett City, or Coast City? Certainly not our lovely legislation for apprehending criminals, or the police's efforts. Having dealt with both, I can tell you they're absolute shit."

"Uh huh," Cisco asked sceptically. "And where is he now, then? The Flash is a teenager, not some 50 something year old man."

Captain Cold shrugged. "No idea. One day he was taking down criminals left and right, and the next he just… disappeared. The guy had been doing the same exact thing every night for 10 years, but mere weeks after he'd taken down the Trickster, he disappeared, never to be seen again. Some say he died, some even claimed that they'd killed him, but the stories were so conflicting that they were obviously made up. Maybe the person who killed him decided to lay low, maybe he dropped dead of a heart attack, or maybe he hadn't even died, you know? Maybe the Trickster hurt him somehow, or made him realise the world was darker than it first seemed, and discouraged him. Maybe he was tired of playing the hero and hung his costume, or settled down and had a family. That's the story I think has the most credibility, anyway- it certainly would explain where the Flash came from; perhaps walking in his father's footsteps after the old man bit the dust. It makes much more sense than him being some sort of speed deity that reincarnates itself after it dies."

Cisco rolled his eyes. "Nice tale. How convenient for you. I still think you're full of shit, but you've got a knack for story-telling."

* * *

"I cannot thank you all enough for your attendance to the Child Abuse Awareness campaign we're hosting today, and especially Central City Picture News, who has been gracious enough to allow us to host our fundraising gala here." Mrs. Stephanie Williams, the director of the charity, proclaimed on stage. "While individually, no one man or woman can change the world, I believe that together we can make a difference. Even if it's just one child that we manage to save, one kid that doesn't have to suffer the tragedies of reality, one bright boy or girl that can have a childhood, instead of having it ripped away by suffering and hatred, both to their oppressors and the all-too-common self-loathing that is often found in such cases, we can look ourselves in the mirror each night and say that we're proud to call ourselves Americans. That we have done our part to make a difference in the world. I have with me today one of the many cases our charity has been tasked with helping. Christopher? Would you like to come up on stage?"

A young, blond haired boy of around ten years ran up to the podium. Just by looking at him, you could see a sort of weariness and mistrust not even most adults had, and despite however well-dressed he looked or how smartly he stood, everyone could sense an air of tragedy around him.

Despite it all, Christopher still smiled at Mrs. Williams and the audience he was to speak to, a big, wide smile that made him look adorable with a missing front tooth.

"Thank you, Miss Stephanie!" he beamed brightly.

"Not a problem, Christopher!" she cooed. "Now why don't you go ahead and say what you need to say?"

The boy nodded and turned to face the audience. "I want to say thank you to everyone who helped me leave my mean mother! I loved my mother, and I still do, but she hurt me all the time, and I didn't like it. I use to cry every day in my room, but no one at school would help me, and my father didn't care about me either. Until this charity found out and helped me leave my opp- oppsy…" he trailed off, turning to Mrs. Williams.

"Oppressive?" she offered.

"Yeah, that's it! She helped me leave my oppressive parents! She helped me stop feeling sad and told me that it wasn't my fault my mean mother did what she did!

"But there are still lots of other children out there like me," he said soberly. "There are hundreds of us, no, thousands, who need your help! So please, give money to The People against Child Abuse so that they can help other kids like me!"

The audience clapped and Christopher basked for a moment, before muttering a quick "Thank you" into the microphone and climbing down from the stage.

"Isn't he just adorable, folks?" Mrs. Williams cooed. "Now, I know you've already donated quite a lot of money! We've reached $89,000! But there's still quite a lot of work to do to reach our monthly quota! So won't you show the world how much you care and, out of the kindness of your hearts, help us reach our goal? For the children!" she prompted with a cheer, and the audience quickly mimicked her behaviour, chanting with their peers while taking out their checkbooks.

"I would like to pay my contribution to society too, madam!"

Faces turned towards the brightly-coloured man with a briefcase who'd climbed on stage sometime during the child's speech.

"Oh?" Mrs. Williams said brightly. "Well that's wonderful! I don't think I've seen you around here before, Mr…?" she prompted, dismissing his appearance and behaviour as an overly-eccentric rich man from out of town.

"You may call me James, Miss, as in James Jesse."

Mrs. Williams frowned. "I know I've heard of you before, but I can't quite put my finger on it…"

The man grinned. "Well, that's a damn shame, isn't it? Come now, I'm sure you've heard of me- I've been all over the news lately! Surely you've heard of… The Trickster!" he announced, pulling out a rubber chicken from his briefcase and showed the barrel of a gun sticking out of the chicken's head.

Mrs. Williams paled and backed away, and the audience let off a cacophony of noise and screams upon the realisation that a terrorist was among them.

Some tried to flee the room, only for the sound of Captain Cold's signature Cold Gun to stop them in their tracks as the doors were blasted shut with a wave of frost.

"Tsk, tsk. It's no fun when the hostages escape, is it Jesse?"

James snarled. "You, Snart. I've heard of you, Frosty. What the fuck are you doing in my gig? If you think I'm just going to let you waltz in here and take my prize-"

Snart chuckled. "Relax, Jesse. Sorry to crash your party, but I thought you might appreciate the help." He sobered quickly. "The cops have some help, nowadays, even if they don't know it. This little punk, The Flash-"

"I've already heard about him, Snart! I'm connected, and know perfectly well how to dispose of him properly- I have experience with his sort, or have you not heard! So you can go back to the hole you crawled out of, because last I heard, you lost your little fight with him back at the science labs, whereas I am well prepared. I'm not sharing."

Snart walked over to the stage, cold gun at his side but not currently being wielded, and stopped but a few feet away from the terrorist. "Let me be clear here, Jesse. I don't give a damn about your money; keep it all if you'd like. I'm hear with a proposition- an offer I don't think you should refuse."

The Trickster stared at Captain Cold. "Tell you what, Snart. Let me get my pen so we can make out a list of demands," he said, reaching into his suitcase.

It only took Snart one glance at the pen for him to reach out, grab Jesse's arm, and twist it behind his arm hard enough for him to drop the pen on the floor with a screech of pain and surprise.

Before anyone could react, he used the edge of his foot to kick it up into the air, where he quickly snatched it and analysed it.

"Nice piece of craftsmanship, Jesse. I must say I'm impressed. What kind of acid is the 'Ink' made out of?"

The Trickster stared at the younger man for a moment, and grinned. The grin soon turned into a full blown laugh. "Well colour me impressed! Perhaps I misjudged you, Snart! There might be something to you after all. Not many people can see through my tricks."

"Please, call me Captain Cold- I'm growing rather fond of the name."

"Then, by all means, call me The Trickster."

* * *

 **A/N: So, I hope you've all enjoyed today's chapter!**

 **I've decided to add a bit of lore to the Earth-1 Flash mythos ;). I don't plan on introducing the multiverse until AFTER I deal with time travel, so you'll have to wait a while.**

 **As for the Crimson Comet… well, I just couldn't resist adding Jay Garrick in here somewhere, not when I'm dealing with the terrible trickster. It's mostly a reference to the 1990's Flash. Will anything come out of it? Is he dead? Is he alive? Is Snart right? Is Henry Allen secretly a retired speedster? :O**

 **You'll just have to wait and see~! MWAHAHAHA!**

 **Also, SNART! :D I love his character! He won't be appearing as frequently as he is now, but I couldn't resist a tie in! Besides, it's the perfect way to bring in some action and drama after that boring, inactive time period where the gang had to recover from his attack! Plus, wounds are still fresh, and that just makes it so much more enjoyable!**

 **Also, between Heatwave, who is regrettably off-camera at the moment, Snart and Trickster, well… we've got a party of three, don't we? ;) Just think of the shenanigans the trio could cook up, and they're not even the full Rogues gallery!**

 **…I think I should get myself checked out. Between Barry's humiliation, then Cisco facing off against his kidnapper, and his inevitable confrontation with Iris and Caitlin… I think I enjoy torturing them! Send help…? Then again, you sickos seem to enjoy this too… hmm…**

 **Also, one lovely reviewer asked if the particle accelerator was going to have any, ahem, effect on Barry when it inevitably explodes. Well, it wasn't going to but… well, you gave me some good plot bunnies! Will anything come out of them? Maybe, maybe not! Who knows, I certainly don't ;)**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**


	14. Chapter 14- A Trick up my Sleeve

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life's just gotten a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry.

 **Beta Reader: None (For this chapter)**

 **Created: 05/06/17**

 **Modified: 06/06/17, 05/07/17, 06/07/17, 07/07/17, 12/07/17, 13/07/17, 16/07/17**

 **Total word count: 4752**

 **Published: 16/07/17**

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 14- A Trick up my Sleeve**

 **By SilentEevee**

* * *

""Khh! Khh! I'm sorry what? You- Khh! You're breaking up; I can't he-KHH!"

" _Cisco!"_ Caitlin yelled in outrage as her friend badly mimicked static noises. "Don't you _even think-_ "

"I'm s—ry! I can't KHHHH you! I'll talk to KHHHH! Later, yeah?"

" _Don't you dare hang up-"_

 _Beeep!_

"…He hung up on me," Iris muttered lowly after a moment where the two of them simply listened to the beeping of the communications device. "He _hung up."_

"…He's dead, right?" Caitlin asked shakily. "Like, what are the chances of him getting out of this alive?"

"Caitlin," Iris said slowly. "That boy won't live to see the sunrise."

" _What?_ How can you just sit here and say that? We need to go help-"

"He won't live that long," Iris interrupted. "Because I am going to _fucking_ _murder him_ the next time I see him. My dad will be leading me out of the scene in _handcuffs._ Keep an eye on the satellite in case Flash does show up, and if any news comes out, keep me updated. I want to know just _how_ _badly_ I should dish it out."

Caitlin bit her lip as Iris ranted over the microphone. "Noted," she called out. "I'll… I'll just alert the police, too, while I'm at it."

* * *

 _Thump!_

 _Thump. Thump Thump._

 _Thump!_

"How are you so good at this?" Barry asks as Becky hits yet another dart on the second innermost ring. "I can barely hit the board."

 _Thump!_

"It's not that good, seriously. Can't even hit the centre ring properly. Besides, I've had loads of time to practice- you should see some of the parties, you know. It's great, a little drunken _Cards Against Humanity_ , music, dancing… the food's amazing, most of the time. Oh, and the drinking games. Have you ever played _Beer Pong_ before?"

"I… um, no, not really," Barry admitted. "I'm- you know my foster dad's a cop… and I'm underage…"

Becky snorted. "That sucks, seriously. I mean, you're, what, 16?"

"15, actually, but close enough. I mean, my birthday's in May, so…"

"Whatever. It's still stupid. You should, like, come to one of the parties, sometime. Actually, here; you know Daphne had a Halloween party in October? Well, her parents are going on some couples' cruise and leaving her alone, so she's hosting some events around the holiday season, right? There's going to be a huge party on New Year's Eve, and I mean _huge-_ half the school is invited. You hear anything about it?"

Barry winced. "Ahhh… no, not really. Daphne doesn't really like me… Iris keeps trying to get us invited to these kinds of things- me, Cisco and Caitlin, I mean- but Daphne hates our guts, for some reason. It really drives Iris up the wall, you know?"

"Well, fuck her, then. Daphne hates everyone, anyway. I'm officially inviting you to her party."

"Should you really-"

"I'm allowed a plus one," Becky said seriously. "If she's so insistent on having me there, then she better put up with you, or I'm not going."

"Really, it's fine. Don't fight with your friends-"

"'Friends', he says," she mimics. "Daphne is _not_ my friend. She's dating my brother, and he wants her and me to get along. She's trying to pretend that we're friends so she looks good in front of him."

"Oh. Uh… I really don't know what to say in this situation."

"Forget it. I shouldn't be unloading all this on you, anyway. You're coming to the party, though, right?"

"…Oh, what the heck?" Barry decided flippantly. "Why not? It might be fun."

"Great!" she beamed. "I _promise_ you won't regret it. But enough about me, now. Tell me a bit more about yourself. What was it like? Getting struck by lightning, I mean? Did it hurt or did you just not feel it? Can you really hear everything when you're in a coma? How do you manage to keep your grades up when you've literally missed two months of school? How'd you just… bounce back so well, so much so that you've even run circles around Tony back in the cafeteria? I'll be honest, I didn't know-"

 _VZZZZT! VZZZZT! VZZZZT!_

Barry's eyes widened for a moment as his phone started to vibrate. He'd normally ignore it, especially on a date that seemed to be going well…

…but he'd recently altered his phone to receive signals it otherwise would not be able to. The police signal for large emergencies, to be exact, something that he'd done by taking it apart and replacing the receiver with that of one of his Joe's old discontinued radios in order to pick up emergency service frequencies. And since his friends and Joe knew not to call him tonight, it was highly probable that it was an emergency alert.

"Uhh… can you excuse me for a moment?" he asked, interrupting Becky. "I just… I need to go to the bathroom."

Becky blinked at his sudden change of demeanour. "Oh, uh, sure. Go ahead, by all means. I'll wait."

With her dismissal, he quickly ducked his head and briskly walked to his stated destination.

' _Please, please just be some stupid car chase or… or someone reporting a crime that's already been carried out,_ _ **please**_ _,'_ he mentally begged the universe as he quickly plugged in his set of headphones and listened to the message.

" _Attention all available units. We've got a reported code 10-99 in progress on Brimstone Avenue at the CCPN charity event. Escaped Iron Heights convict James Jesse, alias Trickster, is rumoured to be present, though the total number of perpetrators is unknown. Seeing as the charity is said to be funding child abuse victims, it is highly likely that at least one minor is being held hostage, so proceed with caution."_

"Aww, fucking hell," Barry swore. "This couldn't have happened yesterday, or earlier today, even? It had to happen _now?_ I can't have _one_ day turn out surprisingly well, for once? _"_

With a resigned sigh, he packed away his phone and opened the door slightly, leaving it ajar. Peeking out, he tried to spot an escape route that didn't involve walking, or even running, past Becky to minimize risk. Spotting none, Barry had two options before him; run past and potentially allow Becky to discover his secret should she be an avid reader of the news and sharper than she let on, or take the undignified route.

"Well, not like I have much a choice in this situation," he muttered to himself.

Barry climbed out the bathroom window.

* * *

Snart scowled in disgust at the gathering of the rich folk of the city as they huddled in a corner, trying not to draw attention to themselves.

He held absolutely no remorse when he stole from those sorts of people, making money off of the backs of hard working civilians then watching them beg for their scraps. The way they pretended to care for the common man or child by holding events such as these, while only attending such gatherings to improve their public image, or hosting them so they could secretly take a large cut of the profits for their own gain.

It was a stroke of pure luck when he found out that James was targeting the charity event at the same time that he was, but no one could ever say Snart was the type to let opportunities pass him by. He couldn't care less about the money they were stealing from the higher class, not in this circumstance. Had anyone else decided to target this place, he wouldn't have bothered even approaching; no use fighting over such a small amount, and he didn't want to make any unnecessary enemies when he already had the mafia breathing down his neck.

But he just couldn't resist taking a risk in his attempts to recruit the Trickster, not when he was already forming a miniature crime syndicate to take down that speedster before he became too bothersome. After all, if the legends were to be believed, and he was almost certain they were, this man had experience not only dealing with a speedster, but an older, wiser, and more experienced one. He was the most probable reason for the Crimson Comet's disappearance.

A true asset, if he was compliant.

And, surprisingly, he was. Once he'd proven himself worthy of consideration by catching him in one of his tricks, Jesse proved himself to be a very reasonable man, despite being a complete psychopath.

The gig itself was very well planned and well executed, despite Jesse's inability to take into account the sudden appearance of an agreeable partner. Simple enough on paper, but effective. The childish theme was a bit much for him, but he'd gladly put up with it. If anything, the twisted charisma the man had more than made up for his quirks.

But what really impressed him and highlighted the importance of such a character on his team was his technology.

Absolutely incredible! Twenty years in the slammer, yet he still was able to put together equipment that any mechanic would be jealous of. His shoes allowed him to fly, for fuck's sake! A genius inventor of his caliber could've made a fortune by selling just one of his wacky inventions, but his thrill-seeking nature and love of chaos, tricks and misdirection would never allow him to lead such a boring business venture.

It was truly a blessing that the world couldn't recognise talent even when it slapped it in the face with an exploding rubber chicken. For him and his team, that is.

The world as a whole would, understandably, not be very thrilled with the idea of such a man joining his band of criminals.

But then, he wouldn't be a very good criminal if he cared about that.

* * *

It took Barry about twelve seconds to run home to get his equipment, and another three to get properly prepared. While normally able to run much faster, he wanted to get into a habit of running at top speed, even in emergencies. He knew well enough that the citizens wouldn't appreciate having to replace their windows every time he went out because he couldn't keep himself to speeds below supersonic.

In retrospect, he should've probably taken the time to properly research his opponents, even if the computer would've taken _ages_ to load. Or at least, ages to a speedster.

Had he done that, he probably wouldn't have been so hilariously outmatched when he came up against his foes.

Barry winced as his head slammed against a support column. His vision blurred for a moment, but he didn't have time to waste in recovery. Disoriented, he tried to throw himself into a forward roll to avoid an incoming blast of ice, as it was safer to stay close to the ground with his balance thrown off. But in his dazed state, he quickly lost the momentum he was trying to build up and tumbled sideways. The blast grazed him, irritating his already injured legs, and he sprawled out on the ground. He took the moment to catch his breath, hoping for the life of him that they'd be too distracted with keeping the hostages in check to strike while he was down.

"What'd I tell you, Snart? It doesn't matter how fast you go if you can't aim right, does it?" Jesse boasted as he dug out a set of black spheres the size of marbles.

Glancing at the foreign objects, Snart wisely stepped back as the Trickster threw them in Barry's direction. Barry didn't so much notice the weapons as much as he did smell the putrid smell that erupted from the colourless gas they released.

It was gag-inducing, smelling much like a mixture of ammonia and methane. Despite it, it was only the tell-tale whirring sound of Captain Cold's gun in action that pulled Barry up to his feet and out of the epicentre before the rubber chicken James tossed into the fray exploded, setting fire to the noxious gas along with the bomb itself.

The shockwave it created, however, was a different story.

Without enough time to take cover, having had opted to get as much distance from the gas instead, Barry was thrown back against the walls of the assembly hall. His head slammed against the floor with the force.

"Is… is that all you've got?" Flash asked from his place on the floor, struggling to breathe with the pain. He was only vaguely aware of the piece of metal protruding out of his hip from where a stray piece of shrapnel from the bomb had pierced him. With the sheer level of cold blasts that had been hitting him lately, especially at his sides from where he'd been twisting in attempt to dodge them, it was no wonder that his nerves had gone numb there, however.

"Are you suicidal, kid? Just give up; you're just making it worse for yourself, at this point. You couldn't beat me by yourself, last time, and you think you've got a chance against the two of us?" Snart retorted from behind a wall of ice that had absorbed most of the shockwave headed for him and his partner.

"Are you gonna- gonna let them go and t-turn yourselves in?" Barry grunted, trying to shakily pull himself up. He'd had to resort to using the wall as a balance; he was pretty sure one of those hits had given him a concussion, at some point. That might explain the disequilibrium he was experiencing, along with why the light seemed to burn his eyes. Or at least, he _hoped_ it was simply a concussion.

"You're pranking us, right? Kid, please tell me you're joking. For your sake"

"He better not be," Jesse growled, unlatching a strange gun with a noise-shaped barrel. It even had a chunk of hair glued onto the bottom, which Barry assumed was supposed to represent facial hair. At the side, it had a container of a strange, almost neon green slush. "I'm the only one allowed to play tricks, here. It's _my_ thing, speedy, get it? Even _think_ about stealing my shtick, and you get a face-full of my snot-gun!"

' _Snot-gun?'_ Barry incredulously wondered. ' _That can't be good…'_

And indeed it wasn't, as mere moments later Barry got to feel the full extent of the dreaded comical weapon when his foe fired three sequential shots towards him. Beaten, bruised and out of energy, it took all his strength the dodge the first shot, but he fell victim to the following two. They struck at his torso, and with the numbness he couldn't feel its effect, though with the way it was eating away at his clothing, he could tell it was nothing less than highly corrosive. He winced, not so much as the pain, as he couldn't feel it, but at the damage it created. He was _so_ going to feel that in the morning.

"Go home, kid. You're making this more painful for yourself than it needs to be."

"Fuck you."

Trickster moved his arm, probably to shoot either another blast of whatever chemical cocktail was in his gun or devastating blow from another strange weapon, but Snart raised his own arm to stop him, giving him a significant look. Trickster seemed to understand that Snart had his own plans for dealing with the kid, and reluctantly backed off, disappointment evident in his face. He eyed the witnesses eagerly, as though hoping he'd have an excuse to try out his weapons after all.

"Shame," Snart said, turning back to face his enemy with a shrug. "You know, I think if you weren't such an annoyance, I might actually like you, in another life. You've got guts, kiddo, and determination to boot.

He aimed his gun. "Unfortunately, this isn't another life. So why don't you chill out for a while? Right now, we've got a job to do. Say goodnight, kid."

And with a simple flick of a switch, Barry was suddenly encased in ice.

* * *

Cisco winced as he peered through his binoculars, watching Flash take blow after blow from the criminal duo through a skylight. Yes, he could take a beating like he'd been doing it his whole life, and admittedly his endurance seemed to be far above that of a regular human, but damnit if that didn't look like it hurt like a motherfucker.

The police had arrived on the scene minutes after the Flash had entered; the area was completely blocked off. Had they taken just a bit longer to arrive, he would have risked climbing to the top of the hall to help the vigilante however he could; maybe he could throw a few rocks, or something. As it was, though, they had a barricade that prevented anyone from even getting close to the street, so the chances of the ever-vigilant cops allowing a minor to sneak up a fire escape were practically zero. Hell, Cisco was probably lucky no one ever looked up, otherwise he was sure they'd send someone to get him as far away from the area as possible.

The second the cops entered the building, whether or not Snart and the Trickster got away, it'd be over for the speedster. Good deeds or not, he was technically a vigilante. Now, he may not be the most well-versed person when it came to Missouri law, let alone Central City, but he was pretty certain that vigilantism was outlawed, much like it was in every other state of the country.

There had to be _something_ he could do...

And… Flash just got flash-frozen.

In any other situation, he'd be laughing at the irony.

* * *

Barry, despite being buried in quite a few inches of ice, was still vaguely conscious.

And by vaguely conscious that meant Barry was quite literally freaking the fuck out despite not being able to move any of his limbs. The moment of clarity, both from the numbness of the pain and rapidly-healing concussion, was being wasted.

He was shivering in the ice; panicking as the total implications of such an act could bring. If the body was cold enough, and done so as quickly as he had been, he could be dying at this very moment; his cells would crystalize with the cold. His veins would contract and stop the blood flow to his brain and vital organs. And how would he breathe? He had no idea how long he could go without oxygen, especially when he was thinking as fast as he was. He had no idea of whether or not his speed affected his oxygen intake, or whether or not simply thinking this quickly had the same effect. They could end up thawing out a literal corpse when the cops inevitably entered the building- because even the longest hostage situation couldn't last forever.

What if it was Joe that discovered him? What if Joe had to be the one that peeled the mask of his dead body- ' _oh God oh God fuck fuck fuck fuck!'_ He couldn't do that to Joe, and Iris! He couldn't! And what would Cisco and Caitlin think? They'd be _devastated!_

Barry felt the ice around him getting looser. It was in that discovery that he realised what was going on; his panic increased his heart rate. Movement generated heat, which in turn helped melt the ice.

Maybe that was the reason he was still semi-conscious during the whole ordeal. Maybe his powers allowed his cells to replenish faster than they were killed off. In that sense, he could potentially survive a lot longer in his scenario, if he could survive just as long without oxygen. And if he started actively moving faster…

Oh, but he couldn't! Moving faster meant that he would be burning oxygen faster- he could end up avoiding freezing to death, only to end up death by suffocation.

He needed some extra energy to burn. Much like the lightning that had struck him, ideally he would be able to access some exterior fuel source to jumpstart him enough to be able to melt the ice without killing himself in the process.

And as he felt the last of his consciousness fading, as he felt the fatigue creeping up on him, possibly for the last time, as he struggled to melt the ice as quickly as he could, his lungs burning in protest, the Speedforce answered his plea.

Lightning danced behind his irises, jolting him awake as the energy poured into him; a true last-ditch effort to prevent the Speedforce's conduit from certain death.

The ice began to rupture.

* * *

Barry alternated between coughing and breathing in the precious, life-saving oxygen the minute he cracked his icy coffin open. Never again would he take for granted the miraculous element, and dear God he desperately hoped he'd never have to part with it for so long either.

He must've spent a good five minutes just lying there, resting against what would've been the instrument of his demise, trying to get the feeling back in his skin. It was healing remarkably quickly, quicker than he was used to, although he doubted that it'd be anything close to enough to save him before it simply overwhelmed him. The chemicals that he was only now beginning to feel, the jagged piece of foreign metal in his side, only emphasised the fact that even now that he'd escaped the ice, he was living on borrowed time. The fact that he could slowly feel this sudden surge of unexpected energy trickling away didn't help matters in any way.

It was that sudden surge of urgency that made him realise that he was in the middle of a battle zone.

Glancing upwards, he was surprised to see that he was still experiencing his own version of bullet-time, only at a much more potent extreme. Whereas before the world had acquired a speed similar to that of a slug, it now looked completely still; frozen even. It was as though someone had taken a picture of the moment, and he was living inside it.

The Trickster was terrorizing the hostages, waving what appeared to be a handful of his exploding rubber chickens just out of their reach, but close enough to slap them with it or set it to blow if he so pleased. A few of them were fumbling with their phones, possibly either recording the entire event like most were prone to do in this day and age, or trying to contact their loved ones, if the streaks of tears were any indication. Though that could also be a mixture of the sheer terror they must feel, or having to part with such expensive jewellery which he assumed cost more than his house. Captain Cold was approaching the door, possibly to deal with the police which were waiting outside the building if the light filtering through the windows- the only thing that was actually moving, surprisingly, and was actually much faster than he could keep up with.

He had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn't imagining the entire thing. He might've assumed that he'd died and was wandering the earth as some sort of super powered spirit, had the pain he was starting to experience again not become so pronounced.

He needed to get out of here, fast. He'd figure out what was wrong with the world later; right now, he needed medical equipment, stat. Preferably from a medical professional, but he doubted he'd find anybody when the world was practically frozen.

But he couldn't just leave. There were hostages, and there was no telling what Trickster would do to them if he got angry at his disappearance, or if Snart got paranoid. They could start shooting indiscriminately whenever they heard even the most basic of noises, even if he were miles away, and grievously injure someone.

He knew what he had to do.

He did his best to pull out the bloody piece of metal and started forward, momentarily surprised when he glanced back and saw the start of what appeared to be the starts of a sonic boom. Ignoring it, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop the shockwave now that it'd been set in motion, he staggered towards his adversaries. Snart he easily dismantled; all he had on his person was a couple of handguns which he promptly threw into the air (hoping they wouldn't cause too much damage if and when the world restarted and they started moving with incredible velocity) and his cold gun, which he had thrown to the ground, hoping the police would have some use for it, possibly as evidence. Regardless, with the impact it would receive, it'd be damaged beyond repair.

He turned his attention towards Snart and tried to grab him by his elbow as gently as possible. It probably wouldn't be slow enough and if he was lucky Snart would only have a few broken bones and not, say, a broken spine, considering the relative speed, and with surprisingly little effort considering Snart's size Barry dragged him forward. He deposited him on Jesse, took Trickster's snot gun and what he hoped was simply a bag of the horrible-smelling colourless gas, and headed out the door, depositing the bag a few feet away from the nearest cop car.

After that, it was just a matter of getting to the closest place to where he could get some medical attention.

* * *

Chaos broke out in the street. Snart was suddenly slammed against his teammate, his arm practically shattered from a sudden blow. Trickster was only barely conscious, and even coughing out blood at the impact. A deafening boom flared up from the building, and for a moment all occupants of the hall felt their ears ringing like broken speakers. It was shortly followed by a bright blue glow, and the temperature in the street quickly dropped by twenty degrees soon after. Even more surprisingly, a set of metallic projectiles were launched through the top of the hall, straight into the air. They didn't appear to be returning anytime soon.

The police were in a frenzy- a sudden rush of wind and colour erupted from a volatile situation and practically blew them off their feet, giving them no time to recover between the moment it occurred and their discovery of a literal sack full of colourful objects that seemed harmless but were undoubtedly dangerous; the Trickster's M.O.

They rushed into the building, guns at the ready, and it was only due to the hidden cache of equipment that James had sewn into his caped suit that they'd manage to disorient them enough to fly away on his anti-gravity boots, however injured they may have been. The hostages screamed and pleaded to be rescued, as though the cops were about to send them back to the clutches of their captors. Fights even broke out in their rush to be the first person to escape.

It was pure havoc and disorder, but Cisco wasn't paying attention. Though the force of Flash's sonic booms and the wind he created in his wake practically threw him to the floor, all he could think about was the sheer display that he'd witnessed through his binoculars.

"Awesome."

* * *

Caitlin snuck back into her own house, hoping to avoid her mother who would end up giving her the Spanish Inquisition for staying out so long. She was tired, nervous and panicking over the fact that Cisco wasn't returning her calls, and she hadn't even heard a single peep from Barry. She knew that he was on a date and didn't want to disturb him, but it was almost midnight and she was worried about her friends. After hearing about the commotion going on through the police radio, she'd been practically glued to the phones and headset.

The only reason she'd even gone home was because Iris pried her off, telling her that if there was a situation that her friends actually needed her help in she'd be too tired to actually do anything, and there was no use panicking over something she couldn't control.

At this point, she wanted nothing more than to flop face-first onto her bed, get some well-earned rest and hopefully hear some good news from her friends the next day.

Of course, she hadn't been expecting a half-dead vigilante in her bedroom.

"Cait… help. _Please_."

" _Barry?!"_

* * *

 **A/N: Haha! I'm back, people! After a month of silence, I have returned to once more torture poor Barry Allen! Be afraid, people. Be very afraid of what I have in store.**

 **Seriously, though. Exams were torture. I got my results back this week and went really well, surprisingly! For those who might be interested, I'm part of the upper quartile in 2/3rds of my subjects, which I'm proud about, and have made a 35% improvement in my maths grade over last year, which is still 20% above the class average. So YAY! My studying payed off!**

 **Now if only I didn't have so much to study in summer, I could focus more on this story. Don't fret, though, I should still have plenty of time to get this done.**

 **Anyway, onto the story; Becky's date was a disaster! I can't imagine she'll be too happy about being ditched, now will she? Cisco's sufficiently amazed, Barry's practically a walking corpse, Caitlin's now aware that her best friend likes to moonlight as a superhero, Iris is going to murder Cisco for being so reckless… what am I missing…?**

 **Don't freeze yourself, people. Ice is BAD for you, no matter what the media might tell you; unless you have a ridiculously fast metabolism to regenerate your cells quicker than they can die and a huge supply of energy and oxygen, you're pretty much screwed. And that's just scratching the surface of the potential problems. Besides, if your regeneration is that quickly, you don't even need cryostasis- you'd practically never grow old, or it would take a lot longer.**

 **But anyway, I've hit you with enoug** **h science for one day. Let's get to the real reason why you're all here; the Question of the Chapter!**

 **Last chapter's answers were absolutely awesome! Have some of you been reading this on your phones? I think you have, because 'Metallo' seemed to have been a victim of the dreaded autocorrect, as I've been seeing a lot of Metallica in the comments. Or at least, that's what I hope is the case. I like Superman, so I hope I'm not getting my Cyborgs mixed up, as reviewers, such as 'THE DARKEST OF THEM ALL' and the guest simply known as 'Jade' have mentioned Metallica instead.**

 **Anyway, I'm pleased as punch to announce that the winner for chapter 13 is…**

 **SentinelPrimeKnightOfCybertron! (Nice pen name btw!)**

 **Anyway. I've been thinking, and I'm in a very Spider-Man-ish mood ever since the movie came out (which was awesome, btw; I loved the final end-credit scene where they had Captain America troll us!). So, to bask in the Peter-Parker spirit, I'm giving you all a Spider-Man question. Ahem.**

 **The first end credit scene teased the Scorpion, or rather the origin story for the Scorpion in the Ultimates Universe, if I'm not mistaken. But why did the Scorpion become a supervillain in the first place, in the original run of the comics?**

 **Well… that's about everything I have to say. So I suppose I'll see you in around two weeks. But if you review enough, maybe I'll consider dedicating more time to writing, now that I have more time to myself… *wink***

 **So remember! Review, review, review! And I just** _ **may**_ **decide to write-up an early chapter!**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**


	15. Chapter 15- Revelations

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life has just become a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry.

 **Beta Reader: None (For this chapter)**

 **Created: 18/07/17**

 **Modified: 18/07/17, 19/07/17, 20/07/17, 25/07/17, 31/07/17**

 **Total word count: 4596**

 **Published: 31/07/17**

* * *

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 15- Revelations**

 **By SilentEevee**

"Okay, okay, I _get_ why you'd be mad at me, and on the surface I guess it seems like a dick move, but-"Barry cut his defence off as Caitlin chose that moment to rip off a part of Barry's tattered hoodie that had gotten stuck to his chest where Trickster's acid had eaten away at a good chunk of his skin. "Fuck, okay, okay! Fine, you win, I'm a jackass! Damn it, fuck! I think you just ripped off what was left of my skin."

Caitlin gave an affirmative hum, but otherwise refused to comment.

"Are you just going to do this all the time? Seriously, how long do you think you can keep this up? You have to talk to me _sometime._ "

The glare Barry received would've been enough to send even the Trickster running. "Do I, now?" she asked faux-sweetly. "That sounds awfully hypocritical, given the situation we're in. Or are you invoking special pleading, because of course _Barry Allen_ can never be in the wrong, can he? Oh, no, he's practically the physical incarnation of virtue."

"I didn't say that-"

"You don't tell us much of anything. Aren't we best friends? We're supposed to trust each other, support each other where no one else would. Some secrets, sure, go ahead. Everyone's entitled to their personal thoughts. But this- this kind of big, life-changing secret? I'm sorry, but I think I should damn well know if my best friend is _risking his life_ , _fighting off psychopaths and supervillains,_ oh and has a biology so altered that it could be _killing him_ without his knowledge because apparently that brain of his is useless outside of school if he doesn't think he should see a doctor about his ability to _casually break the laws of physics."_

"I'm not _dying_ , Cait! I just have a superpower- I feel better than I did before I got these powers, even!"

" _How the fuck would you know?"_ she yelled, finally having had enough and getting up to her feet, throwing down the medical kit in the process. "You said it yourself; you heal fast because your cells can divide much, much faster than normal people's. What research have you done to prove that this isn't… that this isn't making you age faster, or that you're not going to get some sort of super-cancer in the future because of just how damn _fast_ your cells replicate? How do you know that your powers aren't just going to malfunction because you don't know what _the fuck_ is going on in your own damn body, and end up setting you on fire, or something?" she ranted. "Have you gone to a trained and respective biologist, or better yet a biochemist, who might even have the _slightest_ idea of what is happening in that logic-defying collection of cells you call a body? Or have you just kept your mouth shut for whatever _stupid, inadequate reason_ you had for _not telling us that you had fucking superpowers?_! Real life isn't a comic book, Barry Allen! Things aren't just going to magically right themselves, so that everyone can go home and live happy lives after the bad guy is gone. No, it just _doesn't work like that!"_

" _You think I don't know that?!"_ Barry grit out. "Damn it, Caitlin, I know better than anyone how insane our lives are. So I didn't tell you, big deal. But what, exactly, do you think that would've changed from that scenario if I _did_ tell you? Would that make me age at a normal rate, if I age do actually faster? Would it stop a super-cancer? No, it would've just made you _worried, anxious and paranoid_ that any of these things could happen to me, and you'd all be constantly looking over your shoulders waiting for me to burst into flames, or whatever. _Just like you're doing right now!_ "

"Yeah, I am, because we're walking into completely new, uncharted territory, and _you're_ the one who'll suffer if things go awry! You're patient zero, Barry! Excuse me for not being the most calm and collected person in the world, but I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that my best friend's safety just took a nosedive into a fucking black hole! And that's not even counting the ridiculous impulsive decisions you've come up with. I mean, seriously, fighting _supervillains?_ You're going to _increase_ your chances of dying before you even finish school? What is _wrong_ with you?"

Barry rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Oh, so you think that I should just _walk away_ and let people be killed when I could've done something? You think I should've just let Snart force Doctor Wells to make weapons for him? Should've let the fucking Trickster steal from a charity for _children!?"_

" _Yes,_ you _moron!_ " she hissed. "Look at yourself. No, seriously, _look at what those fucking psychopaths did to you!_ Your skin is practically a kaleidoscope, Barry! If your body's healing factor wasn't as fast as it is, that acid _alone_ would've eaten through your skin and possibly corroded your organs. Your _heart_ and _lungs._ You're risking your life for people who don't even give a crap except when it's _their_ life on the line, and what reward do you get? A bunch of supervillains out for your blood _."_

"And yet you wonder why I didn't want to tell you-"

"Yeah, I do, because _clearly_ you're incapable of making a smart decision, or even using the most _basic_ of your self-preservation instincts-"

"Shut. Up. Caitlin."

"What, Smart Guy? You don't like me actually using logical thinking? Is it _that_ foreign to you?"

"I said _shut up!_ " he snarled. "You have _no idea_ what I'm giving up by doing this. You think it's something I take lightly? Cait, you have no idea how _stressful_ this is. Every damn time I go out there, lives are on the line, and even _one small mistake,_ one miscalculation, could end up killing not just me, but an _entire block of people_ at _best._ I have to lie, _constantly,_ just so that I don't put the ones I care about through unnecessary anxiety, and fuck if my piss-poor social life hasn't degraded _further_ because of it. Oh, and that's not even the best part. The _physical_ abuse I take every day, because that's just the best damn thing in the world. You think I like being burned, frozen, shot at, stabbed-"

"- _stabbed?!-"_

"-slammed into things at high velocity, almost being blown up by a bloody _exploding chicken_ , taking concussion after concussion, or even just dealing with the blunt force trauma?! I'm not talking about taking a punch from Tony or two, which hurt like a _bitch_ after a big fight, I'm talking about stuff like being _beat up by a bloody crowbar_!"

"- _what?!"_

Barry looked at her pale, stark white face as it cringed in sympathy and horror at his plights. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down before he ended up rubbing even _more_ salt in this wound. "You think I do this for the fun of it, Cait? Just so I can say, 'hey, look at me, I'm a _superhero_ , practically a real-life Avenger!'? Well, sorry to break this to you, but _this isn't about fun and games._ It's about doing what needs to be done."

"Why?" Caitlin asked softly. "Why do _you_ need to do this? Your abilities are great and all, Barry, but why can't you leave it to the trained professionals?"

"'Trained professionals'?" Barry mocked. "Caitlin, it's not that I have anything against the police force; hell, Joe's a detective himself and I have nothing but the utmost respect for his occupation. But seriously, we're talking about supervillains here. They're trained to fight normal criminals, not _supervillains-_ frankly I have no idea how they caught Trickster the first time around. Snart was making his presence known since _before_ I got struck by lightning. Two months in a coma and the police had made absolutely _zero_ progress in catching him. How many innocent civilians have had their lives uprooted because of him alone? And how many of them could I have stopped if I had been there? I've been the person to catch Heatwave, too, and that guy was causing havoc for just as long. Yeah, he broke out, but I did better than the cops had."

" _You_ didn't catch Snart either, unless you've an announcement that I should hear."

"He showed up with Trickster- though you've probably noticed that, what with all the frostbite. The police should've taken him into custody by now, but I haven't physically restrained him or turned him in or anything, since, you know, I was kind of freaking out about the world suddenly freezing in bullet time, and all that; I'm just hoping the force is competent enough to take down the pair."

Caitlin breathed out, relieved. She'd been rather anxious to get that man behind bars since the S.T.A.R. Labs incident, and it lifted a great weight off her shoulders knowing he couldn't come after them again, even if logically she knew he had little reason to target her and her friends specifically. Besides Barry, that is, who was now apparently begging the guy to murder him, but at least he had the common sense not to reveal his identity to his _enemies_.

"Well. Good, then. I still don't like the fact that you're doing this, though. Barry, being hurt is not just a possibility, you said it yourself. It's a _certainty,_ even if I hadn't known that by the state you dragged yourself in here in. What if you go out there one day and you're not focused enough or someone gets the drop on you, and you're hurt beyond what your accelerated healing can fix. I mean, your rapidly dividing cells are a miracle of science, even if you're playing with fire with it. But I doubt it's instantaneous, or you wouldn't have needed my help, and dear God, what happens if… if you get your arm chopped off or shot in the brain? There are just some things you can't recover from!"

"I know the risks, Cait," he sighed. "I told you- I've thought this through. But… look, back when I was a kid-"

"Barry, you don't need to-"

"No, no, let me get it off my chest, Cait. Back when I was a kid, no one believed me when I told them what happened that night. They told me what I saw was… impossible. Well, not so impossible now, but back then… Cait, there was nothing left for me to have hope for. The cops dropped my case, my dad was arrested. _For a crime he didn't commit._ If someone… if someone could've come in and just stopped it all from happening, if that person could have stopped my life from being _torn apart at the seams,_ it would've changed everything. But no one came, no spectacular hero to save the people I cared about, to prevent such a _huge injustice._ So if… if I could be that hope, even for just one person… damn it, this is so hard to say-"

"No, I get it, Barry, I do," Caitlin reassured. "I won't say I understand, because I have _no idea_ what you went through, let alone how you managed to cope for so long, but I know how broken you were the first weeks after it happened. It's understandable, though, that you wouldn't want people to go through what you did. It's nice that you care so much about people you've never even met. But Barry, I am going to be completely and utterly honest with you right now."

Barry nodded, miming a 'carry on' motion with his hand. "Go right ahead, since we're being open right now."

"I honestly couldn't give a flying crap about those people."

Barry blinked. "Well, that's… straightforward."

"I'm serious. I don't care whether John Doe's father got mowed down by an alien space ship or whether Jane Dee's mother was abducted by a mole-person, or whatever other seemingly impossible things people claim. I care about what happens to you, my best friend, and all the other people I care about. I've lost my father; I don't want to lose anyone else."

"Cait-"

"Let me finish," she said sternly. "I want, above all else, to make the world a safer place for the people I care about; to make sure they're happy, healthy and safe. But it seems with you, the options are mutually exclusive, aren't they?"

Barry visibly cringed at the remark. "I guess you could say that, yeah."

"And neither of us is going to give up our positions, so we're going to do our best to compromise."

"How exactly can we manage that, though?" Barry asked. "I mean, we pretty much hold opposite positions. 'I can't do hero stuff on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays'?" he offered almost sarcastically.

Caitlin fixed him with a steely glare. "Firstly, we're going to find out exactly _how_ your powers work; I'm not going to let you run blindly into this and hope for the best."

"That sounds fair," Barry admitted. "I've tried to do a bit of that myself, but I didn't get all that far. I'm starting to weird myself out, even; I still have no idea what exactly happened to me when I was fighting Trickster and Snart, and that's just off the top of my head."

Caitlin nodded. "Secondly, you're going to have help. I'm going to do my utmost to prevent you from getting yourself killed, whether you want my help or not, got it? I'm going to be there, right by your side, every step of the way."

"And I would deny you that for what reason, exactly?"

Caitlin smirked. "Great! Then you shouldn't have a problem telling the others about your little skillset so they can help out too."

"Wait, _what?_ No way, we are not getting _them_ involved in this too- _"_

"Relax, they know what they're getting themselves into; Cisco's already been spying on your superhero self to try and see if there's a connection between your alter ego and your mother's murderer. One mystery solved, I suppose."

"Wait, wait, back it up. Let me see if I understand what's going on here. _Cisco's been spying on me?_ And why the heck _didn't_ you tell me, as in Barry me, not my superhero identity; I'm basically directly involved in it! Anything _else_ I should know about? Is Joe secretly Elvis reincarnated? Is Tony secretly a genius superspy?"

Caitlin raised an eyebrow. "It's not fun when your friends keep big secrets from you, is it?"

"That is _so_ not the point."

* * *

Barry had to duck his head as a book sailed through the air. He winced at the loud noise it made as it slammed against the wall behind him.

"Was that _really_ necessary?"

"Go to hell, Bartholomew, you fucking _bastard_!"

"Dude, she's calling you by your full name. You are _so_ dead."

"Don't think you're getting out of this so easily, _Sable._ I haven't forgotten about the bullshit you pulled last night. You'll get yours after I'm done tearing him a new one."

Cisco paled at the prospect. "I should just stop talking. Where's the duct tape?"

"Look, can we just calm down and talk about this?" Barry asked, trying to pacify his enraged foster sister. "I mean, I know I've been kind of an asshole, lately-"

" _Kind of?_ You could've killed yourself and we'd never even know until Dad comes home one day in _tears_ because you're such an inconsiderate fucktard that the thought of telling us us when _your body is breaking the fucking laws of physics,_ didn't even cross your stupid _mind, god damn you!"_

"I did think about it!" Barry snapped, because even his patience isn't infinite, and he's tired of repeating the same arguments.

" _Oh!"_ Iris exclaimed, and Barry immediately wished he'd just kept his damn mouth shut when her furious expression morphed into one of a calm, collected anger. "So it's not a matter of you being stupid, is it? It's because you don't trust us, is that it? After everything we've been through, you think we're just going to… what, exactly? Throw you to the side because you're different?"

"That's not what-"

"You know what?" She glared. "No. I'm just… I'm done. Fuck you, Barry Allen. I'm tired of the secrets. Call me when you get your shit together, I'm going to hang out with Daphne."

"Iris!" Barry called out in protest, cutting off her exit when she moved to the door. "Look, please, I'm sorry. Really. Just give me a minute to explain-"

"You've had more than enough time to explain yourself. It's been what, two months? And you never even _thought_ about hinting that there might be something wrong with you. And the thing is I don't think you're sorry about lying to us. I think you're just sorry you got caught. Am I wrong?"

Barry bit his lip. "Of course I'm sorry about keeping secrets-"

"Then answer me this," she demanded fiercely. "If you had the choice to relive everything you have up to this point, would you tell us the minute you found out about your powers?"

"Iris… I didn't want to worry you."

"That's not an answer. That's an excuse. And I asked for an answer. Tell me the truth, Barry Allen. Would you do anything differently?"

Barry sighed, his head low in resignation. "…No."

"Then I have nothing else to say to you," Iris grit out. "Call me when you get your shit together."

"Woah," Cisco piped up after Iris had left the room. "Dude, I don't think I've ever seen her so mad. I'm starting to think I should probably avoid pranking her for a while, possibly forever."

"What am I gonna do, Cisco?" Barry asked miserably, his head buried in his hands as he slumped down on the couch. "I screwed up."

"Oh yeah, big time. I'm surprised she only _threw_ the book at you, though with everything going on you did kind of deserve it."

"You're supposed to be reassuring me," Barry grumbled. "You know, like best friends should? 'Yeah, you screwed up, but you had good intentions', and all that crap."

"Uhh, no," Cisco shrugged helplessly. "Dude, you should have told us. I'm behind Iris. You shouldn't have kept this stuff a secret- yeah, comics are cool and all, and it's awesome that you're, like, a real life superhero, but, shit, man. You could've hurt yourself. You might still hurt yourself, and I'm not even talking about your superhero gig. Superspeed… it's not like we have any idea what your body's going through right now."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before," Barry whined. "You're like, the third person bringing up that exact same point. In less than a day, technically."

"That's because it's an extremely valid and important point that mandates repetition," Cisco proclaimed.

"…Why are you still here?" Barry wondered aloud.

"Do you want me to leave?" Cisco inquired, sounding slightly hurt despite it all.

"What? No I… I meant, why aren't you mad at me like Cait and Iris? I lied to you, too."

"Who says I'm not mad?" Cisco prompted. "Dude, I'm pissed as hell. Apart from, well, the _obvious_ , we're supposed to be comic bros! This was the thing we dreamed of as _children_ , and you still didn't tell me. But, hey, it'd be hypocritical for me to judge keeping secrets, considering the whole 'let's spy on Flash while keeping it a secret from Barry' thing that Caitlin brought up. Hell; that was pretty dangerous too, so it's not like I can talk after practically ditching Iris and Cait."

"…That's fair, I suppose. To be honest, I'm pretty upset about that too but... priorities."

"So how about this," Cisco offered as he sat down next to Barry. "We've both been acting like jerks, lately. So how about we just put it all behind us? We both lied to each other; by omission, mind you, but lying nonetheless. I'd think that makes us even."

"Agreed. So, friends, then?"

"Friends," Cisco agreed brightly.

"…Seriously, though. How'd you get Iris and Caitlin to agree to spy on me?"

"Okay, firstly, we obviously didn't know it was you. Explain yourself fully, Allen, because otherwise it makes us sound like shitheads."

Barry snorted. "Fair point. My humblest apologies."

"Yeah… but you wanna know the funny thing?"

"Shoot."

"It was _Cait's_ idea to not tell you about our espionage adventure. For good reasons, mind you, but…" Cisco trailed off.

"…That little shithead," Barry laughed. "Oh, well, at least I know why she wasn't as mad as she could've been."

"She wasn't?" he asked curiously. "I mean, she sent you off to brave the fearsome Hurricane Iris alone."

"She claimed, and I quote, that she feared for her life whenever Iris blew her top. Worse than Vesuvius, she said."

"Wise words; hopefully ones Iris will not hear anytime soon."

"I doubt we'll survive if she hears, after all the shit we've put her through."

"If I'm lucky," Cisco starts, "she'll be too distracted by you to think about her plan of vengeance against me."

"I knew it! I knew we were only friends so that I could be your meat shield!"

"Well, duh!" Cisco laughed. "Why else would I befriend you? This has all been part of my most devious master plan, one I have spent mere moments forming but years enacting. Finally, it is coming to fruition!"

"You bastard," Barry teased.

"That I am! Hey, I just realised something…"

"Yeah?" Barry inquired.

"You were, like, in front of a huge crowd yesterday," Cisco explained. "I'm betting that with that much attention, and with all the damage to the place confirming the witness statements, plus all that happened back when you rescued us from S.T.A.R. Labs- thanks a ton for that, by the way- but anyway. I wanna know what the news crews are saying about the hero of Central City."

Barry's eyes widened. "I hadn't even thought of that."

"C'mon!" Cisco urged in excitement. "Let's check it out! Turn on CCPN!"

"Dude, this is going to be so awesome!" Barry exclaimed as he fiddled with the remote.

* * *

It was not awesome.

In fact, it was the complete and total opposite of awesome. It was disastrous. It was catastrophic. It was, generally speaking, all around bad news.

" _A child, I tell you! A child is running around in an outfit that looks like someone just fished it out of the trash and putting countless civilians in danger with his theatrics!"_

" _Just look at the trail of_ _ **destruction**_ _left in his wake! The hostages were lucky to escape with their lives, not just due to a series of near-misses of being clipped by a stray shot from one of the criminals in the building, but also for having narrowly escaped being potentially crushed by a falling building! Just a few more off-target shots from Captain Cold's weapon could've caused the structural integrity of the building to fail. This is not advanced engineering or architecture at work, people! It's a fact of basic_ _ **high school**_ _physics that materials contract in cold temperatures, and if that weapon can truly reach absolute zero, it's a wonder it hasn't already collapsed!"_

" _I don't like him; he's a freak of nature, and a showboat, at that! As if it's something to be_ _ **proud**_ _of!"_

"Turn it off."

" _Such_ _ **reckless**_ _behaviour will be the death of our country, I swear it!"_

" _Practically the embodiment of everything that's wrong with our culture! Back in the old days, we didn't have any of this 'supervillain' nonsense, let alone freaks of nature being allowed to operate above the law!"_

" _Who does he think he_ _ **is-"**_

"Barry, you don't have to listen to this crap."

"- _He's a_ _ **menace,**_ _a threat to_ _ **society-"**_

" _-And it was all for naught, because he couldn't even make sure that the terrorists were secured enough, after the beating he dealt out, to prevent them from escaping capture."_

" _He was probably working with them, too. Get out with some dough in the confusion- no one would notice- and sell it to the highest bidder on the side-"_

" **Barry!"**

" _And I publically swear that I won't rest until this vigilante is unmasked-"_

The speaker was cut off as Cisco pulled the plug on Joe's TV.

"I'm not going to let you torture yourself with that bullshit," Cisco muttered in anger, glaring at the blank TV screen as though it had personally offended him. "You don't need to hear that."

"They're right, though," Barry choked out, his eyes fixated on the screen despite the fact that there was nothing for him to watch. "Oh, fuck, Cisco- I could've collapsed a _building_. What was I thinking-"

"Hey, no, don't say that," Cisco consoled him. "You did what you could- you were just trying to help."

"Some help," he muttered bitterly. "No matter what I do, every damn time I try to help someone, to keep someone safe, I end up hurting people."

"Hurting people? Barry, you saved their lives! Last I checked, no one actually reported any _casualties_. Injuries, sure, but no one _died_ , and considering the fact that two _supervillains_ were there, one of which being the god damn _trickster_ , that's a fucking achievement!"

Barry laughed self-deprecatingly "That's not how _they_ see it-"

"Well, screw them, then!" Cisco announced. "They can all screw themselves, if they can't appreciate a hero when they see one! Besides, since when do you care what other people think? No offence, dude, but your life sucks. Life has been treating you like shit since the day you could _walk._ You've never just collapsed into a ball before, so don't start _now,_ Barry!"

"But what if they're _right-"_

"What if, what if, what if?" Cisco mocked. "We don't deal with 'what ifs'. What if a meteor strikes the Earth tonight and wipes out human life as we know it? What if a giant chunk of antimatter goes out of control in some lab, somewhere, and wipes out half of the eastern seaboard? What if a supervolcano fucks up the ecosystem?"

"Okay, I get it," Barry muttered.

"I don't think you do, Barry," Cisco continued, undeterred. "So I'm going to make this as clear as can be; if you keep wondering about what _could be_ or what _could have been_ , you'll lose sight of what _is._ Yeah, it could have been bad, but it _wasn't_ and that's what counts. Congratulations- you got those people out safely, to the best of their abilities. If they think they can do better, they're welcome to try, but if not, then they have _no_ right to judge you for _imagined slights!_ Do you understand me?"

"Yeah, I think I do," Barry said, smiling softly.

"Good, then. But just to hammer it in, do me a favour and repeat after me; I have done nothing wrong, and they can go fuck themselves."

"I have done nothing wrong, and they can go fuck themselves," he parroted.

"Great!" Cisco praised. "Now, if you start feeling like shit because people are ungrateful assholes, just tell yourself that."

"I have done nothing wrong, and they can go fuck themselves," Barry repeated, trying to spin it into a mantra.

"You feeling better?"

"…Yeah, kinda."

"Great! Now, to conclude my most devious master plan, I shall get your mind off of it completely… are you up for a round of Mario Kart?"

* * *

 **A/N: Here it is, the chapter you've all been waiting for!**

 **I** _ **do**_ **hope this satisfies your need for watching Barry be tortured, you heartless monsters!**

 **I kid, of course. I bet you weren't expecting a revelation Caitlin,** _ **and**_ **Cisco** _ **and**_ **Iris! I was thinking about going for broke and including Joe in this, but then I was like** _ **nah**_ **, I have something** _ **better**_ **planned for the parental unit!**

 **Also, I feel the public enemy period Barry went through in the show was** _ **entirely**_ **too short and underdeveloped- oh what could've been done if they stretched it out, at least to the end of the season! The drama that could've occurred, had Eddie had a dilemma on whether or not he should report Barry on his activities, rather than simply leaving us with that gobsmacked expression and disapproving sentiment they had on the show!**

 **Alas, it was not meant to be! Except here, on Earth-125. I plan to unleash the full brunt of public hatred onto poor Barry for your reading pleasure. This story will get progressively darker as time goes on, you've been warned.**

 **Anyway, plot development out of the way, it's time for the QOTC!**

 **Congratulations to GreatRaoOfKrypton for getting the answer correct. Even more congratulations should be bestowed upon you, as you are one of the only _two_ reviewers to get the right answer! Wow! I had no idea the question was so difficult.**

 **Why is Superman said to be able to 'Leap tall buildings in a single bound!' when he has the ability to fly?**

 **(Also, for those wondering, yes, there** _ **will**_ **be more Hartley, and the gang will go back to S.T.A.R.** _ **very**_ **shortly!)**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**


	16. Chapter 16- Girl Trouble

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life has just become a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry.

 **Beta Reader: None (Searching for an active beta)**

 **Created: 03/08/17**

 **Modified: 03/0817, 09/08/17, 10/08/17, 11/08/17, 13/08/17, 16/08/17**

 **Total word count: 3386**

 **Published: 16/08/17**

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 16- Girl Trouble**

 **By SilentEevee**

* * *

"Geez, dude, seriously. What the heck. This has officially reached an entirely new level of annoying- I can't even begin to describe it."

"Cisco, it's really not a big deal," Barry whispered back to him as he placed his lunch tray on their cafeteria table. "I'm not going to let it get to me- 'they can go fuck themselves', and all that."

"I know, and we will maintain that position," Cisco began fiercely. "But, come on, you're getting more crap online than the freaking _SJWs._ And that's saying something, and at least there it's deserved. Everywhere you look, it's yet another online article spewing the same one-sided over-sensationalised garbage."

"Business as usual, then?" Barry grinned self-deprecatingly.

"They're calling you the _Streak,_ Bar. Of all the stupid things I've ever heard, this takes the cake."

"What cake?" Caitlin called as she too approached the lunch table with her own tray. "They're not serving that horrible disaster they tried to pass off as chocolate cake again, are they? I still haven't forgotten the last time- had they even cooked the eggs with the rest of the batter?"

"In this school?" Cisco asked incredulously. "We're lucky they even _try_ passing that cardboard off as pizza- it's like eating glue. And don't even get me started on the 'mystery meat'. There's a running bet that I may or may not be a part of on what it is, and the evidence is leaning towards horse, from what I've tested in bio when the teacher wasn't looking."

Caitlin suddenly looked disgusted with her own lunch. "…What do you think's in the 'chicken' nuggets, then?"

"I'm 90% certain it's a GMO goat. There's also a large possibility that there are traces of rat in it, too."

"And now I think I'm going to follow your example and start packing protein bars for the way," Barry decided, looking vaguely green and revolted enough to pass on his purchased lunch, despite his own accelerated metabolism. "Wish I'd thought of this earlier today, though. I'm gonna starve to death before I even make it home."

Realisation dawned on his friends as he spoke. "Right," Cisco muttered. "Accelerated metabolism, and all that."

"Maybe you could sneak out to get some funds from Joe's place?" Caitlin suggested. "You could buy some actual food on the way back, too. There's a few sandwich shops nearby…"

Barry shook his head. "That'd burn way more calories- seriously, I have to eat a truck's weight every day just to not pass out in class."

Caitlin blinked. "How does Joe even afford all that? He's a detective, not a millionaire. His job isn't exactly known for its high pay."

"Joe doesn't know," he admitted. "I'm trying to keep him as far away from my secret identity as possible, despite _some people's_ insistence," he spoke, pausing halfway through his sentence to send a short glare towards Caitlin, who raised an eyebrow and practically dared him to complain. He didn't. "So I'm mostly just spending my income from S.T.A.R. Labs to buy myself food whenever I really need it."

"Income?" Cisco and Caitlin echoed curiously.

"Yeah- it came in the mail, like, 3 weeks ago," Barry explained. "Didn't you get yours?"

"No?" Cisco denied, with Caitlin sharing similar remarks.

"But- it's a paid internship," Barry protested. "How could they _not_ send you money when I got some? It's the same job! This isn't even something we can chalk up to sexism or such if Cisco didn't get anything either."

"Dude, Bar, we've only worked one day so far- if you can even call it that, since it was interrupted before it could even begin by Cold and his goons," Cisco pointed out. "We've barely done anything."

"How much did you even get?" Caitlin asked.

"…a few thousand," Barry admitted almost guiltily.

"Maybe they mixed up your address, then?" Caitlin offered. "It might've been going to a full-time worker, only it got sent to you instead."

Barry contemplated this idea. "It's as good a theory as any we're going to get. I mean, it's either that or nepotism, I think."

"Still, we should probably ask Dr. Wells just the same when S.T.A.R. Labs reopens in a week," Cisco decided.

"Definitely," Barry agreed. "I don't care how badly I need it, I'm not taking someone else's money, even if it's because of a clerical accident."

"Can you pay it back, though?" Caitlin asked. "It's been 3 weeks, and you do have your metabolism problem to worry about. I'd think you must have spent a good portion of it, if your dietary claims aren't just hyperbole."

"I'll worry about that later," he said, waving off her valid concern.

"In the meantime," Caitlin started as she shoved her purse towards Barry. "Sneak out and buy some decent food."

"I'm not taking your money, Cait." he deadpanned.

"You need it more than I do, and you shouldn't use any more of that money than you need to, even if it weren't all the way at Joe's house."

"We're really gonna do this?"

"Unless you want to eat the rat meat."

"…Cisco, help me out here."

"I'm not eating the rat meat, dude. We're close, but not that close."

"…I'm paying you back the minute we get home, Cait."

"Not if I have anything to say about it, you won't," she promised. "Now go, before your stubbornness starves you."

* * *

"What the- Ow!" Barry yelped in surprise as he turned to close the doors to the cafeteria only to get slapped across his face. His cheek stung with the impact.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Becky hissed out, looking as pissed off as any woman could be. Barry's actions of effectively ditching her to go fight crime were instantly brought to the forefront of his mind.

"Becky! Look I'm-"

"Save your pathetic apologies!" she yelled, cutting him off. "I spent an _hour_ in that café waiting for you! A whole _goddamn hour!_ I thought you were having a breakdown or a family emergency- I thought your foster father had been gunned down on his job, or something!"

"I know, that was an awful thing to do," Barry admitted.

Becky snorted. "Oh yeah, 'awful'. That's putting it lightly," she drawled. "You know, I ended up having to sneak into the men's room myself! I got yelled out of the café! And, what, all you have to say about it is 'I'm sorry, I suck'?"

Barry winced as she spat out each word. "I don't want to even risk saying anything right now- I've had enough fights with Iris to know that's a bad idea-"

"Oh, sure, _Iris,"_ Becky scoffed, rolling her eyes in irritation. Barry felt like face-palming at his own stupidity. Truly, he could never win. "That explains so much. I knew it was too good to be true when you just asked me out on the spot- you were _planning_ this!"

"What?" Barry squeaked, his voice breaking half-way through. "I wasn't- why would you even _think_ that?"

"Oh, please, half the _school_ knows you're pining out of Iris, and the rest of them think you're in a secret relationship because your foster dad wouldn't approve. You seriously think that I'm stupid enough not to notice when that bimbo decides to _royally fuck_ with my life?"

"Iris had nothing to do with it!" Barry protested. Becky expressed her disbelief, and he backpedalled. "Okay, yeah, she's the one that pushed me to go out with you," he began, as Becky let out a satisfied sound despite her situation. "But it wasn't because she wanted me to screw you over! She just decided that since you liked me, and thought that I shared the same feelings, that she'd do her part to set us up."

" _Thought?"_ Becky inquired in disbelief. "Are you saying that she wasn't _certain_ or that it wasn't _true?"_

The dirty corridor floor suddenly became increasingly interesting to Barry Allen.

"God damn it," Becky muttered. "You're a fucking _asshole_ , Barry Allen. You couldn't _once_ tell me that you weren't interested?" she yelled out. "You could've called- I could've covered for you, and then you could've just said the date didn't work out! Heck, you could've just blamed me for leading you on to spite your sister, if that would've given you an excuse! It's not like I care what that bitch thinks about me!"

Barry blinked, and decided it would be better for his health if he didn't tell her to stop badmouthing his sister. "I was afraid I'd hurt your feelings if I did that," he tried, highly aware of how ridiculous it sounded after that night's events.

"Well, that played out well, didn't it?" She asked bitterly.

"Becky-"

"Look," she began, regaining her footing. "I don't care if you don't like me-"

"I do like you."

"What?" she asked, abruptly losing any ammunition she had. "But you just said that-"

"I know but- look, I'm not that good at this sort of thing," Barry began, and he thought he heard Becky mutter something along the lines of 'No shit, Sherlock.' "But I think you're kinda cool, anyway."

"You do?" she asked, almost irritated.

"I'm not joking around to screw with your feelings, Beck. I'll be the first to admit that I was… reluctant, to go out with you but… you seem kind of cool. If I hadn't made such a colossal fuck up, I think we could've been a good couple, despite… everything. I don't _like_ you, not yet in _that_ sense, but I think I'd get there."

The silence stretched on, and for a moment Barry thought that she was planning to slap him again, just from the anger in her eyes.

Thankfully, though, she did eventually speak up, before he could accidentally put his foot in his mouth again.

"You know what? Fine," she decided. "I'm still mad as hell, Allen, but I'll give you another shot."

"Wait, really?" Barry was the one caught off guard this time. From the manner she held herself, he would've guessed that she would rather push him into a bottomless pit, if given the choice. The anger she was still practically radiating kind of scared him.

"I'll give you another shot," she said, trying not to smirk. "Daphne's party," she said suddenly. "You're invited again. Dress nicely, and don't screw it up."

She didn't give him any time to regain his bearings as she brushed past him, never once looking back.

Barry was suddenly dreading that party; every survival instinct he'd acquired over years of being shoved into lockers practically screamed at him not to go, that he was treading dangerous waters in playing it up with the popular kids, especially after harming one of their own. He knew that having Iris on his side wouldn't help him much, either.

He ignored them all as he set the date on his calendar.

He _wouldn't_ make a fool of himself. He'd make it up to Becky, one way or another.

But first, he _really_ needed some food.

* * *

" _ **This is quite unbecoming of you, Mr. Antonelli,"**_ The yellow-clad figure's demonic voice spoke out as the mob boss spun in his chair with glee.

"One of the prime threats to my operation is being hunted by the very people he's trying to protect. The cops have an _arrest warrant_ and a _strike force_ just for him, and we haven't even had to plant incriminating evidence, or anything that could lead back to me! The irony of this is just so beautiful! Do I look like I give a damn about my composure right now, Mr. Reverse Flash? That's quite a long trite name, by the way; too many syllables. And defining yourself by your enemy really makes you seem subpar, in the long run. You sure you don't want to go by something more… threatening? Like 'Inertia' _,_ if you want to keep your speed-thing going on."

He stopped as he realised his ally-of-convenience was not impressed.

"Alright, Reverse Flash it is," he agreed. "What brings you to my humble workplace today?" he asked, and he could've sworn the figure rolled his eyes at the word 'humble', though it was quite hard to tell with the red glow. "Are you asking after another favour? Need another breakout? A cop paid off to be at a certain location, at a certain time? Arresting the kid would be a good way to attack his life; it creates discord between family members."

" _ **Not exactly,"**_ the figure spoke. _ **"I'm here to tie up a loose end."**_

Antonelli didn't have time to realise the implications of that before a hand pierced his chest. Blood seeped through his shirt, and his vision darkened. His legs gave way beneath him as his heart was torn apart. It only took a moment, though it felt like an eternity.

" _ **I'm afraid our convenient partnership is… no longer convenient."**_

* * *

"Wait, wait, let me see if I'm, like, getting this," Daphne Dean interjected, interrupting her sometimes-friend Becky. "After you spent the entire night _crying_ on the phone because of this jackass, you're going to let him come to my party? _Why_? He didn't even, like, call you, not once, the entire weekend! And this was after he _ditched_ you, too! You should just, like, kick him to the curb, girl!"

"You think so, Captain Obvious?" Becky snapped.

"Seriously, though. What did you ever see in him?" Deborah, one of Becky's gang of friends asked. "He's a geek _and_ a loser! Guys like him are only useful when you want them to do your homework."

Becky shrugged. "I thought he'd be different- I was just so fucking tired of assholes like Jeremy or Claudio. Guess I was wrong."

Deborah rolled her eyes. "Like, duh! Girl, you should know all men are the same. They'll string you on; flatter you and, like, buy you stereotypical romantic things; pretend they actually care about you. And then when your guard is lowered, they'll manipulate you and drop you when they're done."

"Hey, Beck! Three guesses as to who's still whining about Tony, and the first two don't count."

"I am _not_ , Daphne! If he likes that bitch Iris better than me, then it's _his_ problem! He's the one that's missing out!"

"Uh huh, sure."

"Girls, please," Becky interjected. "Can we not change the subject?"

"Fine, I'll let those remarks slide, but, like, only for you, Be."

"Thanks, Deb."

"We're gonna get back at him, though, right?" Daphne asked. "We're not going to let him get away with this?"

"Of course not!" Becky exclaimed. "Why do you think I'm still letting that fuckboy come to the party?"

Daphne grinned. "You're leading him on? Now we're talking. Got a plan?"

"Most definitely."

"This'll be good."

* * *

"You guys ready for this?" Cisco questioned gleefully, looking up over a monitor set up at Barry's old testing air field. Having hooked Barry up with a level of tech that anyone else would consider extreme, they prepared for their first experiment.

"As I'll ever be," Barry commented as he fastened his camera-wielding helmet. "What've you guys got for me?"

"Okay, so first up we have the preliminary tests," Caitlin explained. "We're going to need you to just run as fast as you can in a straight line. This'll record your maximum velocity but apart from that, the second -okay the nanosecond you think you've hit a constant velocity, we need you to hit a small button at the front of your helmet. We have a sensitive motion sensor hooked up- it'll send a signal the moment you start running. Through this, we'll find out how long it takes you to accelerate."

"Sounds easy enough," Barry decided. "And I assume these wires you've got hooked up to my torso will measure changes in things like heartbeat, rate of oxygen intake, and all that stuff?"

"Right," Caitlin agreed. "Right now we're just doing the basics, but it'll go a long way in proving, or disproving, some of our milder theories."

"And just so you know, when that happens I swear I will get you something to wear that doesn't make you look like malfunctioning Bender," Cisco commented offhandedly as he finished setting up the software on his laptops. "Be nice, and I'll even incorporate it in your super-suit."

Caitlin grimaced at the reminder. "Right. Let's not focus on our dangerous hobbies, for the moment. You guys ready for some science?"

"Born ready," Barry agreed with a grin.

"Then we're all set," Cisco almost cheered. "On my mark, Flash."

Barry carefully set himself into a pre-running position that he'd often seen runners take up in the Olympics.

"3…"

He felt the electric current being to pool into him with the subtlety of a waterfall. It didn't hurt him- it never did anymore, not after the lightning struck him down in what seemed like an eternity ago.

"2…"

Cisco's counting was slow. Far, far too slow- his legs were practically begging to move—to run. His speedforce energy pricked him like pins and needles and damn it couldn't Cisco just give the signal already? This was the worst form of cruelty-

"1…"

Barry was practically vibrating in place, heart pounding wildly in his chest. This was it; just a few more seconds, and he could run to his heart's desire. Miles and miles of open road, nothing to stop him or slow him down.

"Ru-"

He shot forward as though he was seeing the world for the very first time, completely ignoring the ear-shattering boom that erupted in his wake. Despite however long he'd have his powers, he knew he'd never grow tired of the feeling- the wind howling past him as he cut through the air like a hot blade through butter. The energy empowering him, crackling just beneath his skin, was addicting. Yellow electricity dripped off of him, flashing behind him in a golden current, pulsing to the beating of his heart. In moments like these, it was all too easy to just forget about all his problems and just give in to the speedforce.

Going through the motions that his friends had requested hadn't slowed him down one iota, and soon he found himself nearing the edge of the course. With a sigh, he decelerated to safer speeds so as to not ruin his run by crashing into something, despite every urge within him to ignore the obstacles in his course—to run around it or even straight through it if it meant he'd get to keep running.

" _Barry?"_ Cisco's voice crackled over the coms in his helmet. He'd forgotten they were there, for a moment.

"Yeah?"

" _Why'd you stop? Is something wrong? Are you hurt? Feeling nauseous or tired?"_ Caitlin's voice trickled over the line this time, and even through the radio he could hear the worry in her voice.

Barry blinked. "No…? I mean, I just reached the end of the track."

" _Wha- already?"_ Caitlin squeaked out.

" _Dude that's- holy fuck that's fast! Seriously, what the heck? There is no way you should be able to do this; it gives breaking the known laws of physics a whole new meaning,"_ Cisco rambled on.

"How fast was I going, then? Mach 5?" Barry asked curiously.

" _Try Mach 7."_

Barry blinked. "Are… Are you sure? Last time it… when I checked it myself after I first woke up, I was much slower."

"… _Define much slower."_

"Um… around Mach 4.5? Rounded down?"

" _This is insane,"_ Caitlin said, almost thinking out loud.

" _No kidding. Barry, come back over here. We're checking how well you do when it comes to turning- especially sharp turns. You're gonna need to know that well if you're going to be running around the city centre."_

"Wait, we're not going to talk about the ridiculous increase in speed?" Barry questioned, slightly incredulous.

" _What's there to talk about? You're getting faster- maybe it's practice, maybe you just naturally get faster with time, or maybe you your last experiment had some sort of human error that you missed. We'll just have to run some more tests to figure out why, but we need to do those anyway to double check our results. Unless you have any suggestions on what we should do instead?"_

Barry's mind drew a blank. "Not at the moment, no."

" _Then let's not worry about stuff we might not even need to worry about yet. Let's get back to work, okay, dude? Science waits for no one!"_

* * *

 **A/N: I'm back, people!**

 **Sorry this chapter took so long, but I've had a very busy week. My sister wanted to introduce me (and my parents) to her boyfriend's parents, so we had to go out. We had a barbeque this weekend, and a birthday on Monday, so I wasn't able to get it out on my usual time. It's also a bit shorter, but hey, I was trying to keep to a schedule.**

 **Anyway. For those who don't want to go back to read up on what they don't remember, Mr. Antonelli was the mob boss Eobard hired to break out Trickster. He's dead now. Oh, and Becky and friends are plotting Barry's social demise.**

 **(Yeah, I'm evil.)**

 **Basically, none of this chapter was filler, by the way, despite what it may seem like. Absolutely everything in this will build up towards other stuff- especially S.T.A.R. Labs. Man, I cannot wait until we get to S.T.A.R.- I've got some cool stuff planned for it.**

 **QOTC TIME! Woot!**

 **Congratulations to last chapter's winner- MarvelMatt! You're at a total of 1 points, at the moment. But then, there's only one person who's won more than once, so don't worry about it.**

 **As for today's question; what is the Penguin's real name, from the Batman stories?**

 **There, that should be a relatively easy one, this time around. Everyone loves Batman.**

 **Also, to those interested, I've joined made a Tumblr blog under the same name. I'm mostly going to be posting stuff about fanfiction and writing- status updates to my story, or even just ranting about annoying things related to writing and giving advice. It's also going to be a place where you can send me prompts if you so desire—if it's a fandom I'm familiar with, I'll probably accept them. (#shamelessselfpromotion)**

 **Before I sign off, I'd like to address a guest review (since I can't PM you guys…)**

 **To the guest known as Cobalt, and your question about Supergirl;**

 **I cannot, at the moment, confirm nor deny Supergirl's existence. Mainly because I haven't planned for her to make an appearance yet. But then, if I introduce her I'll probably go by the show's version of having her in an alternate universe.**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**


	17. Chapter 17- STAR Labs, Take Two

**Title: The Trials of a Teenage Speedster**

 **Summary:** Life as a teenager is tough; between mean teachers, malicious bullies, ridiculous workloads and a love life heading nowhere, it's hard to find a reason to get up in the morning. Of course, throw in superpowers, vigilantism, supervillains and a mountain of secrets and lies, and your life has just become a lot harder. Barry Allen can attest to that. Eventual SnowBarry.

 **Beta Reader: None (Searching for an active beta)**

 **Created: 13/11/17**

 **Modified: 14/11/17, 16/11/17, 26/11/17, 27/11/17**

 **Total word count: 3998**

 **Published: 27/11/17**

 **Arc 1- Genesis of a Hero**

 **Chapter 17- S.T.A.R. Labs, Take Two**

 **By SilentEevee**

* * *

"I suppose it would've been too much to hope that you'd dropped out after last time's unfortunate turn of events, wouldn't it?" Hartley commented as he entered the lab. Barry, who was lounging on a few of the lab stools behind a desk, bit back a sigh of annoyance.

"Yeah, we're not exactly thrilled to have you here either, ass," Cisco muttered, not looking up from where he was playing minesweeper on his phone. "If we're being honest, I think I'd take Snart over you any day of the week."

"Where's Dr. Wells?" Hartley demanded, completely disregarding Cisco's rebuttals as he turned to Caitlin, whom he'd deemed the most sensible of the lot.

Caitlin looked up from where she was finishing off the last of her homework and jerked her head to the door connecting Dr. Wells's lab to his private office. "In there, talking to one of the scientists about the damage to the particle accelerator. From what Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber there managed to understand from their eavesdropping-"

"Cait! C'mon, dude! Don't give him any ammo! He's a big enough pain as is," Barry protested.

"-there's something faulty with it, so the grand opening might have to be delayed, _again."_

Hartley huffed. "How typical. I don't suppose you know how far it'll be pushed back to?"

Caitlin shrugged. "Heck if I know; they're not even sure if there is any real damage. All they've got so far is some wonky results."

"That could be a cause for concern," Hartley pointed out. "A big one, given what we're working with, here."

"I'd heard Dr. Wells mentioning it might've been Snart's ice blaster that might be responsible," Barry put forth his two cents. "You know how temperature changes cause materials to expand and contract. Absolute zero is pretty extreme a temperature change. It could've damaged the metal inside it."

"That… doesn't really make sense," Hartley commented, deep in thought. "We weren't exactly on basement level, and even if we were, the particle accelerator is very far underground. For the cold to spread that far, and most of all still be cold enough to affect it in a non-negligible manner? That's rather unlikely."

"Who knows," Cisco commented. "Maybe it's just a faulty calculation. People make mistakes, you know. Something'd be bound to go wrong sooner or later."

"How reassuring," Hartley drawled. "I don't suppose Dr. Wells told you anything about the matter?"

"Yeah, he told us during last Monday's super-secret science spy meeting, along with the nuclear launch codes, the passwords to the Pentagon, and the secrets to life, the universe and everything." Barry bantered from across the room. "The answer's 42, by the way. Guess he forgot to send you the memo."

"How utterly invaluable you are to the cause, Allen," he muttered. "How I shall enjoy working together with you in the future."

"Seriously, what's your problem, dude?" Cisco piped up, annoyed on his friend's behalf. "There's no way someone's naturally that annoying. It's just not possible."

"Oh no, you've gone and hurt my feelings," Hartley mocked, silently cheering as he managed to worm his way into the S.T.A.R. Labs system.

"Jerk. You know, no one's making you stay here. If you, Mr. Holier than thou, are so irritated by our presence, you know where the door is. Heck, don't your parents own some multimillion dollar company? You could literally build your own laboratory in a few years, instead of having to 'suffer' through our presence. "

Hartley twitched. "My parents," he spat, "don't exactly hold my studies in high regard. Nor myself for that matter."

"Oh, great. The poor, poor rich kid had a fight with his parents. You're going to be going on about this until our ears bleed, aren't you?"

"You know where the door is, Ramon," Hartley mocked. "Turnabout is fair play, is it not?"

"You know, I'm actually really jealous of you two," Cisco commented loudly to his friends. "At least you only have to deal with him until your sessions with your individual mentors start. Me? I have to spend _all_ my time with him."

"Well that's just disappointing, Mr. Ramon. I was in fact hoping that the two of you would be able to co-operate. You would make quite a pair, one that people should think twice about underestimating," Dr. Wells's voice trailed into the room as he walked in; a flustered and nervous technician quickly exiting the lab after him.

The crew straightened up, Hartley quickly closing his running programmes as Cisco tried to fumble his way out of his predicament. "Well, I, uh. I mean, I guess I _could_ work would him, if I really tried- and I will! I intend to; it's science, after all. Shouldn't really let some… differences in opinions… prevent us from uncovering the mysteries of the universe… and all that. Right, Hartley?" he asked, shooting his colleague a pleading look.

"I think we could make it work, if we set a few ground rules," he spoke, covering Cisco's back despite it all.

Dr. Wells nodded his approval. "Very well, then. I don't suppose you two have any qualms about working with Mr. Rathaway, or indeed, anyone else here?"

"No, Dr. Wells," Caitlin and Barry chorused.

"Good, then that'll make the news all the more exciting for you."

"News?" Hartley perked up. "Is it about the particle accelerator?"

Dr. Wells hummed in thought. "Related, I suppose you could say, though quite distantly. Rather, do you all remember what we had talked about before the unfortunate incident took place the last time you set foot in this building?"

"Oh, yeah, I was worried about that," Barry said. "I'd heard that some of your staff quit after Snart held the place hostage- I'd seen Dr. Elias's name on the list, but you hadn't called to cancel my internship." Dread pooled in Barry's stomach for a moment. "You're not cancelling it now, are you? Is that why you were taking so long to-"

"Rest assured, Mr. Allen," Dr. Wells interjected smoothly, "I have no intention of doing so. Though the absence of some of the staff has caused problems, I simply intend to delay the program I'd set up, preferably for some time after the particle accelerator has been activated. Instead, you're all going to be working directly under me."

Cisco let out a cheer, and blushed slightly when he'd realised he'd done so out loud. Hartley cleared his throat. "So, then, what was the delay about, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Nothing you should concern yourself with, Mr. Rathaway. Rest assured that it's all been taken care of. Now, how about I assign you your tasks for the day, so that we can get this show on the road?"

* * *

"'Heard strange noises', Ramon?" Hartley asked, bemused, as his co-worker approached him and his employer. "What, is there a ghost living in the building? I think I have the Ghostbusters's number somewhere, hold on, let me check my phone."

"I'm serious, Rathaway!" Cisco growled. "What if there's another attack like there was last time? What if I go check it out by myself, and I get turned into a Ciscocicle?"

"The world would surely mourn you greatly," Hartley drawled.

"Hartley! I'm serious! Dr. Wells, please, tell him!"

The last thing Eobard wanted to do was even entertain the fool's idea. Leonard Snart, even this inexperienced version of him, would never be so idiotic- he knew when to cut his losses.

But then, this was Cisco Ramon. He wasn't exactly the cowardly type. He was a superhero, or would eventually become one. Scared is one thing, but to be completely cowed, to have to hide behind and ask help from another, even before he got his powers, was completely out of character. Besides, why would he, under normal circumstances, ask him, his as-of-yet distant boss, Rathaway, who he, by all means, should consider an enemy? Why not his best friends, with whom he'd braved many storms and was sure to brave worse in the future?

No, they were planning something. They didn't hold any veiled hostilities towards him, so his secret probably wasn't in danger, and Hartley, beyond being a minor annoyance, wasn't a danger to them yet, either.

…His tech. They needed his tech, and they very well couldn't just ask him to leave the room, and he couldn't very well ignore them as they 'played' with his 'state-of-the-art' scientific equipment.

Of course, that is always assuming that Ms. Snow knew about Flash's activities. And unless Ramon was willing to go along with whatever his friends decided without needing to know why he was potentially putting his own job on the line, he would have to be in on the secret as well. That or the boy trusted blindly. That could be quite beneficial, if that were the case. Really, it would be in his best interests to find out.

A risky move, given the game he was playing, but as he hadn't given them reason to suspect him of anything… it really could only help him if he played along.

"I think, Mr. Ramon," he began, pausing just long enough for Ramon's face to shift into a mild panic. Eobard bit down a smirk. This game was proving to be quite entertaining- the team wore their emotions on their sleeves, it seemed. "I think it would be in our best efforts to check this matter out for ourselves, to definitively put your mind at rest. At any case, it shouldn't take longer than a few minutes. What say you, Hartley?"

Hartley sighed. "Fine, I'll come with you. If nothing else, I get the opportunity to mock you when it turns out that there's nothing down there."

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Caitlin stage-whispered to her friends as Barry started to hook up one of Dr. Wells's microscopes. "I mean, what if we get caught? What then? You'd think with you two practically antagonising Hartley that he _wouldn't_ rush straight to the first person who'd listen with this? He wouldn't exactly have too much trouble getting attention! And what about Dr. Wells? Who knows what he'd think!"

Barry flinched at the suggestion, but quickly drew himself up again. "Cait, last I checked, weren't you the one who was insisting that I look after myself? I mean, what better chance are we going to get to carry out those tests you wanted? This stuff is top-of-the-line; the only place you'd find better gear is Wayne Tech R&D- and I'd rather take my chances with some place I already have access to than enter Gotham City."

"That place is creepy, and not just because of the crime rate," she admitted, though Caitlin still looked unconvinced. "I still don't like it. Lying to our boss… not to mention the fact that it's _illegal,"_ she hissed.

"So is vigilantism," Barry pointed out. "I haven't exactly let that deter me, though, have I? So have you, for that matter. Aiding and abetting a criminal, and all that."

Caitlin soured. "There's a difference between the kind of crime that helps people and the kind of crime-"

"Not as far as the law's concerned, though. Crime's still a crime. It's the human element, judge and jury and the like, that differentiate. Besides, it's not like this is going to hurt anyone, right? Come on, Cait, please?" Barry begged her. "You're the one who doesn't want me to get hurt, remember?"

"That's as loose a justification I've ever heard, Bear," Caitlin huffed, but took out the blood collection kit she'd recently obtained from her purse. "What are Dr. Wells and Hartley doing, anyway?"

Barry half-shrugged with the arm that didn't have a syringe stuck in it. "Dunno, I just told Cisco to distract them."

Caitlin looked uncertain. "Are… are you sure that was wise?"

"It's _Cisco,"_ Barry deadpanned. "I didn't exactly put a supervillain up to this. It's not like Cisco's going to take the place hostage to get some attention."

* * *

Cisco, ironically, sighed in relief as Rathaway continued to bang on the metallic doors. Quickly, he hid the phone from which he'd orchestrated this entire event.

"Oh, great, this is just fantastic. Of _course_ my luck is bad enough for this to happen. I can't go _one_ day without having some sort of disaster strike me, can I?" Hartley ranted, as though that was going to suddenly make the elevator work again.

"Mr. Rathaway," Dr. Wells commented, amused. "I do believe that hitting the object isn't going to make it work faster. Indeed, it might even make our situation worse. I doubt you'd be any happier if you wound up trapped in an elevator _and_ broke your hand within the same hour."

Hartley sighed, resigned to Cisco's snickering. He resisted the urge to flip him the bird. Not in front of Dr. Wells, of course. "Yeah, yeah. How long till the repair guys get this thing fixed?"

"Oh, I'd say that depends on what happened in the first place. Rest assured, however. I only hire the very brightest- it shouldn't take very long at all."

* * *

Joe frowned to himself as he straightened himself in his car as he was getting ready to pick his son and his friends up from S.T.A.R. Labs.

He'd been working at the precinct for almost two decades, now, and considered himself damn good at his job. It wasn't just an inflated ego that made him think that- one didn't rise through the ranks as quickly as he had without being competent in it. He'd put so many criminals behind bars at this point that he'd stopped keeping count, and if there was one thing that he prided himself on being good at, it was his ability to read people.

Take his son, for example. Before his accident, he'd been bright and optimistic; carefree on all matters that didn't end up involving Dr. Allen, and confident enough in himself despite what his peers might say about him. He knew he had the ability to go far in life, and was more than willing to work for it.

But ever since he'd woken up, there'd been something… different about the way he held himself. His confidence had taken a boost to the point of recklessness, in some cases, but he was far less outgoing in others. He always seemed tense and on edge around everyone, even him and his friends, though that seemed to die down greatly lately, save for Iris. He wasn't entirely sure what'd happened between the two for there to be such animosity between them.

He was hiding something. He wasn't yet sure what exactly it was, and was almost certain that his son was overreacting and wrongly imagining a more than sour response to whatever it was, but he knew Barry was keeping something from him.

Now, he was nosy by nature. It was his job, trained in him since the day he'd first entered the police academy, all those years ago. But he also knew a thing or two about boundaries. He was fairly certain Barry would eventually tell him what was going on in his own time, if it was serious enough, but even so, lest it be something dangerous, he sure as hell wasn't going to drive his son away by pushing. Besides, he was a teenager, and they all had their secrets. Everyone did, really, and he'd be amongst the most hypocritical if he held himself as though he didn't.

But that didn't mean he had to like it, not when individuals that were practically strangers were slowly worming themselves into his son's life, not those that he'd had reason to see as more than slightly suspect.

Dr. Harrison Wells was Central City's resident genius, and his facilities had brought the city more than its fair share of economic prosperity, but that man was as suspect as they came. Every instinct in his body was telling him to drag his son as far away from that man as possible.

It didn't exactly help that his first impression of the man had been just after his son was held hostage by a criminal, coincidentally on his first day there. Sure, there were grounds for bias, but after doing his own bit of research on the man, only for him to find out that he was his own little introverted mystery, wrapped up in an enigma for good measure, he felt he had enough reason to think himself justified. Not even so much as a parking ticket, not since 2011. No one was that clean, and especially not someone with such a sound mind for business. Those men were like sharks- they could smell blood in the water from miles away, and you don't survive long in that world without adapting yourself to it.

If his son wasn't so excited to be working there, and if the experience and opportunity didn't open as much doors for him in the future, he'd have second thoughts about letting his son keep interning there.

But even so, he was planning to keep a sharp eye on the man. The minute he'd think him up to something underhanded, he'd pull his son and his friends out of there faster than that new vigilante could run.

Speaking of which, he should probably start working on his case, before the Captain drove him up the wall. And if he and the rest of the rapidly-forming task force worked quickly enough, maybe he'd even have enough time on his hands to privately investigate the good doctor before New Year's.

* * *

Hartley growled as he stalked to the lab. After being trapped in a confined space with Ramon for the better part of a half hour, only to find out that the state-of-the-art elevator apparently malfunctioned and ended up incorrectly triggering its emergency breaks, despite the fact that, as the elevator had been one of the things damaged during Snart's little escapade, it had literally been brand new.

He'd had a hard day, so one would have to understand that, as he found himself face to face with Snow and Allen acting in turn flustered, anxious, and mildly bewildered, obviously trying to hide something as they carefully made sure to block his view from the desk beyond them, he had been understandably pissed off.

Honestly. What were those two doing, anyway, for them to be so eager to hide whatever it is they had on them at the time? Was it a relationship thing? He'd thought they might be together- any moron could see the chemistry the two had.

"You know what?" Hartley decided as they continued to pretend that nothing had happened. Badly, for that matter. "I don't want to know. And I especially don't want to hear whatever bullshit you come up with- and don't protest, you're lousy liars, and you probably know that, too. Just… whatever you did, make sure Dr. Wells doesn't find out. The last thing I want is to get in trouble because of something you two did. Got it?"

"Where are Dr. Wells and Cisco, anyway?" Caitlin asked, clearing her throat as she did.

Hartley pinched the bridge of his nose. "I spend the last half hour trapped in an elevator with the two, and after we've wasted so much time, Dr. Wells still insists of going to check out what Cisco thought he heard on his way up earlier today. 'Just in case', Ramon says. Ha, load of paranoia, I say, but it's not like Dr. Wells listens to me." Hartley made a face at his train of thought. "That's just reserved for Allen and his precious groupies, isn't it?"

"Maybe it's just because he likes us better?" Barry pointed out, despite Caitlin's harsh whisper of 'don't antagonise him'. "I doubt it'd be too hard to imagine why."

"Yeah, sure," Hartley mockingly agreed. "Yeah, that's it Allen, whatever you say."

"Well then, care to share any of your theories, Rathaway?"

Caitlin sighed to herself, resigned to the fact that the people around her never knew when to step down. Stubborn asses.

Her cynicism went largely unnoticed by the two around her, however, as Hartley continued on undeterred. "I'd presume it's because he thinks he sees some sort of hidden talent buried deep within you, God knows why. Way deep, if it's even there at all."

"Such flattery," Barry spoke satirically. "Doesn't change the fact, though, that he still thinks it's there."

Hartley frowned. "You might have a point there. Well then, I suppose the only thing I can do is prove to him that his time is better used elsewhere."

"Are you really that petty?" Caitlin asked in disbelief. "Honestly, Rathaway."

"Yes, I am," Hartley agreed, bristling. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've suddenly got better use of my time than talking to simpletons," he said, brushing past the two teenagers.

Caitlin turned to Barry. "Really, did you have to antagonise him so much?"

Barry shrugged. "The dude's an ass. The only defence I have against Woodward is my wit and banter. What did you expect to happen, find us frolicking in a field of daisies? Besides, he started it."

Caitlin shook her head. "That's the most childish thing I've ever heard you say, Barry. Seriously, cool it. The last thing you need is to have him try to dig dirt up on you- we both know how much there is to find."

* * *

"Well then, I suppose I'll have to move up my plans, then. I didn't expect him to reveal himself to them so soon. Had I miscalculated when I let the Trickster rattle the cage so soon? Perhaps I should've just found a way to discretely hire Captain Cold to cause a bit of ruckus downtown, instead." Dr. Wells decided with a frown as he watched Snow and Flash running tests on Flash's blood. This was quite unexpected. Did that mean he should assume that the West family knew as well? Or perhaps just one member?

If the detective was aware of his son's abilities, then no doubt the two would start looking further into the case of Nora Allen. If that were the case, then he'd have to schedule his visit as the Reverse Flash sooner rather than later. But if that weren't so, then he'd simply end up tipping the older man off. Besides, the man was perceptive, as he'd have to be, with his job. He'd learn, even in such a distressing scenario, that his information network was not as ideal as he'd like it to be.

If _only_ that lightning bolt hadn't struck so soon! Had he had proper time to see his plans through, he could've set up the cameras as he'd originally intended later on, something which could prove quite difficult now that the Flash had received his abilities.

He'd have to get it done at some point; as it was, he was risking life and limb for this mission. The last thing he could afford is fault information. He shouldn't have procrastinated for so long- it should've become top priority the minute he'd heard about the coma. But no, he was too busy reorganising his plans- anything he'd done at that point could've been detrimental, and that wasn't-

 _BZZT!_

Eobard was jolted out of his plotting as something vibrated against his hip. He sneered at his phone as he withdrew it; as primitive as this era was, it still had that unfortunate feature. As someone who'd had people, sometimes even alternate versions of himself, try to kill him through the age-old vibrating hand trick that speedsters were known for, it could be quite disconcerting.

Nevertheless, Eobard was quite surprised when he'd received an invitation to a high society gala.

Of course, as one of the leading members of his field, it wasn't the first time he'd attended such events. Banal and pointless, to be sure, but it had to be done for the benefit of his goals.

But then, it wasn't every day that the Batman of Gotham City invited you to his manor, now was it?

* * *

 **A/N: I'm alive, people!**

 **Okay, wow, that was a loooooong hiatus! And here silly me thought I'd be done by mid-October! Hahaha… (please don't kill me!).**

 **In my defence, though, school started, and I have a LOT more to do this year than I did last! I have my O-levels coming up, and I'm teaching myself Computer Science, programming and all! Apart from that, I have to design a programme for my O-level for it, study, and create a 2000 word project for my European Studies O-level! I'm also going to private lessons, so I even have less time to myself, and my teachers are killing me with homework and tests!**

 **Unfortunately, I can't say the hiatus is over. The fact that I'd even gotten this out surprises even me! But now, my project deadlines are drawing to a close, so don't expect another update before, perhaps, the New Year comes around!**

 **But anyway, enough about me! I know, this probably all means nothing to you, so onto the things you actually care about! THE QOTC!**

 **First up, we have last chapter's winner! Give it up for MarvelMatt, for winning his second QOTC! *Pops a balloon and sparkles fall out of it* Congrats!**

 **And for today's question; a rather easy one for anyone ever vaguely familiar with the mythos, but hey, it's been a long hiatus and you guys deserve and easy one.**

 **Who is often credited as the only man to have broken the Batman?**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **~SilentEevee**


	18. The Inevitable Author's Note

**The Inevitable Author's Note**

I suppose I should start off by saying that I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for all the broken promises. When I first got into this work, I let my aspirations get the better of me. I wanted to create this grand tale, depicting what I imagined the world would be like had things turned out just a little different. And now, here I am, almost two years into a story that had effectively been abandoned a year in the making. I let myself make promises I couldn't fulfil, and so I apologise, once more, for not keeping my word.

I'm sorry that I let my spark burn out. I naively kept clinging to the idea that I'd _work on it tomorrow, next week, after my exams, next_ _ **month**_ , when really, I was never actually going to get to sit down and write if I kept procrastinating as I was in the bit of free time that I had. If I had committed to writing a small, 10-chapter novel, instead of planning out my work months, maybe even _years_ in advance, I wouldn't feel as burnt out as I am now. Looking back, I find myself realizing that, though I did love the time I spent writing this story, I was always eagerly anticipating this new twist or plotline, rather than allowing myself to fully enjoy what I had been writing at the time. I'm sure that if I had let myself focus on the present, rather than the future, I could've churned out better quality work on a more consistent basis, like I had during the first few weeks of this project.

I'm sorry that I committed to something I had no business committing to. I somehow fooled myself into believing that, despite the upcoming exams that I knew I had to study for, I could somehow balance my studies and my writing at the same time. Clearly, this wasn't the case. I don't even have time now, in the summer period, now that I've taken even more work upon myself with summer courses on piloting a plane. Maybe I would've been able to churn something out, however small, and that it would be big enough to reinvigorate my fire, had I not put my summer on hold. I'm afraid I can't put my effort to chase my dream aside, given the limited timespan I have to work with, though that is no excuse. I shouldn't have committed to something I couldn't deliver on, and I can't avoid the blame by framing myself as a victim of circumstance and a busy schedule.

I'm sorry for my carelessness. A month ago, I'd gone through a totally avoidable loss of my data. Had I properly backed up my files, the plot that I spent weeks planning, editing and solidifying wouldn't have been lost, and the last embers of inspiration that I'd had might not have been snuffed out so soon.

I'm sorry that I let my skills grow poor through disuse. Had I practiced more on my own, even if I turned in nothing, or subpar work, then I wouldn't constantly feel ashamed of my writing, in how it doesn't even satisfy my already flimsy standards anymore.

I'm sorry that I let myself grow apathetic towards the show in its latest season. Had I watched each episode when they came out, rather than having a single binge session after my exams concluded, perhaps I may have been reinvigorated through it, and kept to my goals and promises.

I'm sorry that I probably got your hopes up when you were alerted about an update, for those who cared enough about my work to stay with me even after all this time, only to offer you an empty apology instead of actual, meaningful work.

I'm sorry, most of all, that I let you down.

Unlike the last time I made a promise I couldn't deliver on, i.e. the original incarnation of this work, I don't plan to delete my story this time. That said, I don't have any current plans to reboot it, either. I'm going to keep it up. This fulfills two goals.

Firstly, it shall stay up simply because there may be some of you that should like to read it again in the future. If you somehow still enjoyed my work, despite the depreciation in its quality, then who am I to begrudge you of it?

Secondly, I intend to keep it up as a harsh reminder to myself. Should I ever attempt to write another story, for any fandom, I should keep in mind how I failed you all in this work, and not let my ambitions get the best of me. I'll strive to keep myself grounded in the future, so as to avoid yet another abandoned work.

Last time, I promised to revitalise the story. To some degree, I suppose I did that with my reboot. I will do no such thing, this time. I hope that one day, when I have enough time and inspiration to do so, I will decide to revisit the story again and produce an actual chapter, but as of right now, I'm afraid all I can give you is this pathetic apology.

I'm sorry.


End file.
